


For What It's Worth

by KendraPendragon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Humor, Hurt, Parent!lock, Romance, Trigger Warning: Mentioning of child loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 15:35:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 90,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5461865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendraPendragon/pseuds/KendraPendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Julie Hooper finds out that instead of coming from a sperm bank, she indeed has a father. From a little suburb outside Paris to 221b Baker Street, London, England, the journey takes her.<br/>From one day to the other, Julie Hooper has a father, an uncle, even grandparents. And Sherlock Holmes suddenly has a daughter and finally an answer to why Molly left him twelve years ago. He is a different man now, angry and bitter over the loss of the woman he once loved so much. He dreads the day he will see her again, but he knows it is inevitable. So when they finally meet again, both have to face a fact of life: Time is an illusion and a bond woven by true love can never rip completely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we start, I would like to thank a few people: First of all the wonderful mods who have put this challenge together. Because of you I have learnt a lot about my own writing. I will be eternally greatful for this to all of you. Second of all I must thank my wonderful Beta Maddy who did a beautiful job and who was an essential help bringing this together. Thank you for your work and your honesty. Last but not least a big thank you an bkst-tutu1b who was kind enough to create a piece of art for this story. I bow my head to all of you.

“It’s not fair!“ Julie Hooper yelled through the cosy little house outside Paris, throwing the laundry basket across her room onto her bed.  
“I’m 12 years old! I am a child! I’m not supposed to wash my own clothes! That is your job!”  
Her mother sighed and closed the book she had been reading, put it down on the low coffee table and stood up. She ruffled her chin-length hair and quietly walked to the open room of her daughter, leaning against the frame and crossing her arms.  
“Interesting that you’re only a child when you are supposed to clean up and ‘almost an adult’ when you want to do stuff you’re not allowed to do”, she said calmly, looking at the sulking child sitting on her bed with legs and arms crossed, her full bottom lip pushed out in protest.  
“I’m not doing it!” she insisted, holding her head high. She was speaking French now, a sign that she was truly appalled. “And you can’t force me.”  
Molly shrugged.  
“Fine. Go to school with dirty, stinking clothes. I don’t care.”  
She turned around, hearing her daughter’s frustrated outcry.  
“You are a horrible mother! I will call protective services! They will get me out of this hell hole!”  
Molly only shook her head and called over her shoulder: “And for that, you can do my laundry, too.”  
As soon as Molly was back on the couch, the door to Julie’s room slammed shut.  
Molly sighed again. Daughters. 

Cursing in French continuously, Julie emptied her hamper onto the floor and started sorting her clothes. She threw her colored shirts and pants into the laundry basket and, carrying it on her hip, she ripped her door open and stormed into the living room where her mother had gone back to reading her book.  
“You know what? It’s a good thing that I know how to do the laundry. All I need to learn now is to cook and then I won’t need you anymore at all!”  
“My hamper is in my room. Start with my trousers.”  
“I KNOW WHERE YOUR BLOODY HAMPER IS!”  
“If you continue to curse, there will be no astronomy club tomorrow.”  
With a cry of frustration, Julie whirled around and stormed into her mother’s bedroom, slamming this door shut as well.  
She really hated that her mother always stayed calm when she was angry. There was no fun in fighting with that woman. It was much more fun to argue with her teachers when they were wrong. They hated that, and Julie had the best time pointing it out to them over and over again.  
Maybe she could live at school?!  
No, even though she would love to have access to the science equipment twenty-four hours a day, she would miss her room with the skylight. She wouldn’t give that up for anything in the world. Not even to get rid of her annoying mother. 

As Julie went through her mother’s dirty clothes and fished out the trousers, a mischievous smile formed on her lips. Her slanted blue-green eyes sparkled with mischief and after she was done throwing the dirty trousers into the laundry basket, she walked over to the closet and opened it, grabbing a handful of clean trousers and throwing them into the laundry basket as well.  
Oh, she would show her. When her mother didn’t have any trousers to wear, she would have to wear a skirt to work tomorrow. Not much fun during winter.  
Just the image of her shivering mother, slinging her coat around her while her teeth were clattering was pure bliss. A vivid imagination surely brightened up days like these.  
Julie had just grabbed the last of pair of trousers and whirled around when she noticed out of the corners of her eyes that something was fluttering to the ground.  
She looked down and gasped as her own eye stared up at her.  
The trousers she had been holding fell to the floor.  
Slowly, Julie sank down on her knees, afraid that a hasty move would make the picture fly away. With trembling hands she reached out, her fingers hesitating for only a second before they closed around the crinkled picture.  
Julie’s eyes widened as she stared at the man who was looking back at her, one eye closed, the other one glaring up from his lying position. The mop of black curls sharpened his facial features and Julie drank them in hungrily, memorizing and closing them away deep in her heart. A teardrop rolled past her cheek as she lifted her hand and placed a finger on the cupid’s bow of her upper lip, looking down at one very similar.  
Julie tried to stifle a sob as she looked at a picture of her father for the very first time in her life. 

~oOo~

It had been silent in the house for almost ten minutes now and Molly knew her daughter way too well to not suspect some mischief behind it. Closing her book once more, she rose from her seat.  
“Julie, if you are cutting holes into my clothes again, I swear to God, I…”  
Molly Hooper would never finish that sentence. She was cut off by the chaos of clothes in her bedroom, her daughter sitting in the midst of it, staring at a photograph. The photograph.  
She swallowed hard and grabbed the doorframe for support.  
No, it was too soon, her insides protested in panic. She wasn’t ready. She wouldn’t understand…  
As if she had heard her, Julie’s head snapped up, her short brown waves bouncing beautifully. Tears were streaming down her face and Molly’s heart ached. She hadn’t seen her daughter cry in four years.  
“You knew him.”  
It was just a whisper, but to Molly it sounded like a shout. She cringed at her daughter’s statement. It hadn’t been a question. Julie was smart, of course she would piece it together, dismantling the lie her mother had told her of how she had gone to a sperm clinic and just picked a donor within seconds. She was half a Holmes, after all.  
Taking a deep and breath, Molly entered the room.  
“Yes.”  
There was no way back now. She couldn’t pretend it was someone else. Julie looked so much like him it would have been ridiculous to even try. And she couldn’t pretend it was a relative, because Julie would instantly question why she had never spoken of her uncle or cousin and why she hadn’t put the picture up on the mantelpiece where the picture of her grandparents was standing.  
Furthermore, Molly was tired of lying to her only child.  
“Is he still alive?” Julie asked.  
Molly sat down next to her daughter, gently wiping a tear from her face with her thumb.  
“Yes.”  
“What’s his name?”  
“His name is Sherlock Holmes.”  
God, it had been so long since she had said or thought.  
Molly inwardly laughed. That wasn’t true. She had been lying to herself for so long it had become a reflex. Not a single day went by without her thinking of him. And how could she not, having this little version of him right in front of her eyes?  
“Sherlock Holmes…”  
She smiled sadly as Julie tried out his name, rolling it over her tongue, listening to her voice saying it one more time while she stared at the picture Molly had taken of him so many years ago while his head had been resting in her lap, his hands steepled under his chin, his legs stretched out on the sofa of 221b Baker Street, London, England.  
Molly swallowed hard. She could still remember the smell of chemicals mixed with tobacco and coffee.  
Molly closed her eyes to get rid of the intruding memories and took another deep breath.  
“Didn’t he want me?”  
She opened her eyes again and met the blue-green eyes of her daughter. They were full of questions and hope and fear. So much fear.  
Molly ran her fingers through Julie’s waves soothingly, not knowing whether she was trying to soothe her daughter or herself. This was the hardest part, the one that could tear a big gap between them.  
“He never knew…”  
Molly had to bite back tears. She felt a lump in her throat as her daughter’s eyes widened, understanding her unfinished sentence. Julie’s eyes searched her face and once again Molly was overwhelmed how much she was like her father sometimes, always looking for clues. Apparently, she found nothing, because her brows furrowed.  
“But…why did he leave?” she asked, totally confused.  
Molly lowered her eyes as more memories flashed before her eyes.  
“He didn’t. I did.”  
Julie looked down at the picture, running a finger over the face of her father. Up till now, he could have been anything. A tree surgeon, an astronomer or an accountant. She knew so little he could still be her hero, a man worth worshipping and idolizing. But if she questioned further, the truth could destroy it all. Something must have happened for making her mother leave this man. The worst theories popped into her head, inspired by horror stories of her classmates, from cold to cheating, even to violent. He could be one or all of them. It would be easier not to know. She could take the picture and live in a dream world, making her father the best man there ever was.  
But it would never be real.  
“What happened?” Julie finally asked, bracing herself for the worst. She had to know. She had a father who was living his life somewhere. She just had to know what kind of a man he was to go on with her life.  
Yet, her mother’s answer was totally unexpected and it turned her view of the world upside down:  
“I broke your father’s heart.”


	2. Chapter 2

Julie watched the little pink and white marshmallows swirl in her cup of hot cocoa as she slowly stirred in it with a spoon. She gnawed at her bottom lip, her eyes darting over to the picture lying on the kitchen table next to her cup. Even though she had already memorized it, she couldn’t stop looking at him.  
Her father.  
Sherlock Holmes.  
What a funny name. She had never heard this name before and wandered what kind of parents would name their child like that.  
The thought made her gasp and her head snapped up, the brown waves surrounding her face bobbing.  
“Do I have grandparents?”  
Her mother was sitting at the other end of the table, staring blankly into her mug of coffee. She never drank coffee unless she was upset. Julie saw the hesitation in meeting her eyes, but she did eventually.  
“Yes. At least I think so.”  
“Did you know them?”  
“Yes.”  
“How were they? Would they like me?”  
Julie saw a shadow pass over her mother’s face. Then she smiled.  
“They would love you.”  
Julie swallowed down the lump in her throat and looked at the picture again, just to make sure it was still there.  
So many questions were circling in her head, she didn’t know where to start.  
Think logical, Julie instructed herself. What is the most important question you need answered? Make a list.  
And so she did.  
All this time, her mother would just sit with her, waiting to answer every question she had. She looked different to Julie now. Smaller. Tired. Sad. And afraid.  
But Julie couldn’t deal with this now. Her mother had lied to her, but she couldn’t deal with that, either. Right now, all she focused on was getting information on Sherlock Holmes.  
“Tell me everything”, Julie demanded after a long silence. “How did you break his heart?”  
Molly cringed only slightly, but Julie noticed. She also saw the white knuckles of her hands while her fingers clasped the hot mug desperately. It was silent again for a few minutes. Julie knew she would answer her, though. She always had. She had explained the world to her, many, many times, until Julie had understood what she had wanted to know. The picture of her mother certainly had cracks, but Julie still trusted her to be truthful now.  
And after another minute, she started to explain a part of her life Julie hadn’t been a part of.  
“I worked at a hospital in London. This is where I met your father. I knew him for years. All that time, I’d been in love with him. We’d gone through hell together. Your father has a very dangerous job.”  
“What is it?” This was one of the things she wanted to know most.  
“He is a detective. The world’s only consulting detective. People come to him with a problem and pay him to solve it.”  
“What problems?”  
“For example if they are sure a relative had been murdered but they can’t prove it. Or if they are looking for someone who seems to have disappeared. He works for the police, too.” Molly smiled as the face of Greg Lestrade popped up in her head. “A lot, actually. Whenever there was a case they couldn’t solve, they called him and asked him to take a look at a crime scene. He can see a lot of things other people can’t see.”  
“So can I!” Julie exclaimed happily and Molly smiled at her.  
“Yes. He’s a genius – just like his daughter.”  
Julie beamed at her mother. To know that she had something in common with her father meant the world to her. Molly could understand this very well.  
“Have you helped him?” Julie asked next.  
“Occasionally. He had an assistant. His best friend was always with him on cases and made sure he was safe. The cases were very dangerous sometimes. But in the end, he always succeeded and got the bad guy.”  
Julie couldn’t be prouder of her dad right now.  
“Anyway, your father and I were friends for a very long time. Then he had to leave for two years and I met someone else. I even was engaged to him.”  
Julie looked at her in shock. She had always been so sure to know everything about her mother. How could she have been so wrong? What else was there that she didn’t know?  
“But then he came back and…things were different. He was different. Two years away from home and the people he loved changed him. I realized that I still loved him, even more than I ever had, and broke off my engagement. After some drawbacks we ended up together and had a wonderful year…the happiest time of my life up to that point. And then I got pregnant…”  
Her mother paused, staring into her cup again. Julie bit her lip. She was torn between anger and the longing to be in her mother’s comforting arms.  
“I was told I couldn’t get pregnant, so we never used protection. You weren’t in any of our plans. It was quite a shock when I sat in the doctor’s office and she told me that you were on your way.”  
Molly looked up and saw the tears swimming in her daughter’s eyes. She realized how it must have sounded and hurried to add:  
“No, a good shock! The best shock of my life! But it was a shock. I was crushed when I was told I couldn’t have children. I had always wanted to have lots of babies and it took a very long time to make my peace with the fact this was never going to happen. And then, all of a sudden…it was. I was…overwhelmed. It’s hard to explain.”  
“I think I know what you mean”, Julie said after a moment. “It’s like being told that you don’t have a father and then all of a sudden, you get to know there had been one all the time.”  
Molly looked down, guilt and shame washing over her.  
“I’m so sorry, Julie”, her mother breathed and tears were pricking at the corners of her eyes, but Julie wasn’t ready to forgive her yet. She still didn’t understand what had happened.  
“Go on”, she simply said and her mother winced at her icy tone.  
She looked at her for a very long time before she finally continued.  
“I walked out of the doctor’s office, floating on air. I was so happy. I pressed my hand on my belly all the way back home. I was overjoyed, but also afraid. The doctor said it was important to stay calm, to not get too stressed in those first months. So I went to your father’s to tell him, but as soon as I opened the door, the house was bustling with noise and his flat was full of people. The Detective Inspector and some of his people insisted they needed him for another case, that it was most important, and they argued loudly. I remember that I watched your father yelling and snapping at the men, silently wishing for him to look at me. But he didn’t. He just stormed out at one point, finally agreeing to look at the crime scene, shouting at me over his shoulder not to wait up for him.”  
The face of Julie’s mother showed nothing but sadness for a moment.  
“I always wondered…if he had looked at me that day…would he have known? Would he have seen it? Would he have been happy?”  
Molly sighed and covered her eyes with her hand for a moment. She sniffed and Julie’s heart cringed. She had never seen her mother cry before.  
The silence was deafening for a second and Julie almost regretted to have found the picture. She didn’t want her mother to be so sad. But then she cleared her throat and wiped the tears away.  
“Well, I was left alone in his flat, nothing but silence around me after the loud noises. I looked around. His flat was a mess. Knives and chemicals and all sort of dangerous objects were spread carelessly around the flat and I just thought ‘no’.”  
“No, what?” Julie asked after her mother didn’t continue.  
“No to him. No to a life with him.”  
“Why?”  
Molly saw the confused expression on Julie’s face.  
“Because of so many reasons, Julie. Some of which still make sense and some that made sense back then when I was panicking. My priority was to keep you safe. I wanted you more than anything. Even more than I wanted him. So I gathered all the stuff I had left at his flat, hurried home, packed two bags of clothes, grabbed my passport, went to the airport and got on the first available flight.”  
“But why didn’t you tell him about me? I don’t understand this! Why did you do this to us?!”  
Julie was in agony now.  
“I thought I was doing the right thing. You’re father is a complicated man, Julie…”  
“So it’s his fault now?”  
Julie shot up from her chair.  
“No. But you don’t know him…”  
“And whose fault is that?!” she yelled, grabbed the picture of her father and ran into her room, slamming and locking the door shut.  
Molly remained at the table, not drinking her coffee, for almost an hour, thinking. Then she threw a long look at her daughter’s door which was decorated with neon, glow-in-the-dark stars.  
A deep, heartfelt sigh fell from her lips before she stood up and walked over to the phone, picked it up and dialled the number she had planned on calling many years later.  
It rang four times before a familiar voice answered.  
“Hi, it’s me…it’s time.”


	3. Chapter 3

“It clearly was the minister, Mycroft. I can’t change the truth. You knew, anyway. I don’t know why you forced me to investigate when you already knew the answer.”

Mycroft took a sip of the lukewarm tea Mrs Hudson had prepared and put the cup back on the saucer before looking at his younger brother who was lying on the couch in his deep red nightgown, old sweatpants and a worn-out grey t-shirt.

“Just thought you might find a detail I have missed. It is always a shame when a minister falls off the wagon.”

“As if corruption isn’t common in your ranks”, Sherlock spat, his eyes closed and his hands steepled under his chin.

Mycroft wanted to object when his mobile started ringing. He pulled it out of his pocket, looking at the ID. 

Sherlock glanced over at him, noticing how his brother’s eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“Hello?” 

Sherlock saw how Mycroft stiffened in his seat. 

“I see. I’ll take the first flight tomorrow morning. “

Mycroft ended the call without goodbye. Which wasn’t unusual, per se. But his posture told him that something was off. 

“Well, goodbye, dear brother. Thanks for your help in this nasty business. I’ll leave you to yourself now.”

“Is your lover threatening to leave you again?”

Mycroft stopped dead at his brother’s words. 

Sherlock sat upright, a triumphant grin on his face.

“Oh, come on. Did you really think you could hide her from me? Or him? That’s the only thing I couldn’t figure out. We never really talked about your preferences. And thank God for that. But it’s so obvious. And a long-term lover, too. Things must be serious with him. Or her?”

“Her”, Mycroft said through gritted teeth.

Sherlock grinned as he pranced through the living room, very pleased with himself.

“Interesting. Haven’t thought a French woman would be to your liking.”

“French?” Mycroft asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You’ve flown to Paris once a year over the last, what, eight years? And you send money to France on a regular basis.”

“Well done, dear brother. Even though I am not fond of you sticking your nose into my finances.”

“Just making sure my inheritance is safe.”

Mycroft chuckled and twirled the handle of his umbrella in his hands.

“Do you really think you are in my will?”

“Whom else would you give your money to?”

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“But you hate the French!”

Mycroft chuckled.

“Not this one, brother dear. Not this one.”

“What’s her name?” Sherlock shouted after him.

Mycroft didn’t stop walking down the stairs as he answered.

“Julie.”

  
  


~oOo~

  
  


“I want to meet him.”

Molly closed her eyes. She was facing the sink and washing the dishes from a very silent dinner. Taking her time to slow down her aching heartbeat, she put the dish in the drying rack before she turned around.

“I know. Your uncle will come and fetch you tomorrow morning.”

Julie’s eyes widened. 

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Her daughter stood there for a moment, just looking at her mother with her beautiful blue eyes. Then she dashed forward and slung her arms around her. Molly hastily pulled off the gloves and knelt down to hug her daughter properly.

“Thank you”, Julie breathed into her neck and Molly couldn’t keep her tears in any longer. Her fingers brushed through her daughter’s hair and she placed a wet kiss on her cheek. 

“Just promise me you’ll come back”, she whispered and put her daughter’s face in her hands, looking at her lovingly. 

“Won’t you come with me?”

Molly shook her head. 

“I can’t, Julie.”

“But Mum! Don’t you want to see him again? You’re clearly still in love with him!”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Molly asked half-heartedly, tugging a strand of Julie’s hair behind her ear.

“The picture. You haven’t looked at it once.”

Molly smiled warmly.

“You are far too clever for your age, Missy. Puberty will be hell.”

“If you still love him, why don’t you come with me and apologize? Maybe he’ll forgive you.”

“Julie.”

“No, Mum. Explain.”

Molly sighed. She knew she wouldn’t let this go until she understood.

“There are things that can’t be forgiven. Like to deny a father his child.”

Julie shook her head. 

“If you explain, if you tell him that you were scared…”

“Darling…”

Julie sobbed and Molly wiped away a tear. 

“Back then, I ran away without a word. I hurt your father so badly…he could never forgive me for leaving him like that.”

“How can you know that? You haven’t spoken with him in twelve years.”

Molly looked at her daughter, the person she loved most in this world. 

“I know because he never came after me. He easily could have found me if he had wanted to. But he didn’t. He let me go…that’s how I know”, she added in a whisper and Julie flung herself into her arms, this time to comfort her mother while she cried. 

Even after all those years, it still hurt that Sherlock had never come to bring her home. A part of her had waited for it to happen for years. But he had never come. He had never forgiven her. In running away from him, she had destroyed everything they’d ever had. 

  
  


~oOo~

  
  


Molly couldn’t help but smile a little as she watched Julie straighten her blue skirt. Normally, she would never wear a skirt. She loathed them because she couldn’t climb trees without an adult scolding her.  But today obviously was different. She wanted to look her best and Molly had complimented her on her outfit, which she had picked out herself: Black blouse under a blue cardigan, the matching skirt, white leggings and her brown winter boots. This in combination with her bright red winter coat and the beige scarf, gloves and knitted hat looked absolutely adorable. At least in Molly’s opinion. 

The upcoming separation from her daughter made her heart ache. She had never been apart from her longer than a day and the thought of not seeing her for a whole month made her want to cry. 

She bent down to her to tug a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Mum”, Julie hissed and slapped her hand away. Molly smiled.

“Is this him?” she asked in excitement and pointed to a tall man in a black coat hurrying down the hall.

“No.”

“This?”

“No.”

“How about him?”

Molly sighed and sat down on the bench next to Julie’s luggage. 

“His flight has just landed, Julie. It takes a while to get off the plane and go through security.”

Molly saw how Julie shifted nervously from foot to foot, standing on her tiptoes to get a better look at the bypassing faces. 

“Hey”, Molly said and turned her daughter to face her by grabbing her open coat. 

“Are you okay with going alone with your uncle?”

“I don’t know. I have to see him.”

“Give him a chance. He’s not good with first impressions. But he loves you dearly, even when he doesn’t show it.”

Julie nodded. Molly had told her how Mycroft had been there all the time, supporting them. She left out the details that she didn’t need to know.

  
~oOo~  
  
  


_Molly entered the lobby of her cheap hotel near Gare de l’Est. After another long night crying her eyes out about her own foolishness of throwing away the love of her life, her face was pale and her eyes surrounded by a puffy red. She didn’t care how people looked at her. All she needed was food, even though she didn’t feel hungry. But she had to take care of her baby. With the bag of Chinese take-away in her hand she headed over to the elevator and pushed the button. The doors glided open and Molly looked up._

_She gasped and the bag slipped out of her hand._

“ _Get into the elevator, Miss Hooper”, Mycroft Holmes said in his usual icy tone, holding the door open with his umbrella._

_Molly needed a second to process that he was really here. His glare sent a jolt through her spine and she hastily bent down, grabbed the food and walked into the cabin. She wasn’t surprised when Mycroft pressed her floor with the tip of his umbrella._

_Her heart was beating painfully fast and she unconsciously pressed a hand on her belly, taking comfort in the fact that she was not alone. As they reached her floor, she wordlessly followed Mycroft to her door. Mycroft opened it with his own card, which made Molly frown. Then she shrugged. What the hell. Should he go through her stuff. He knew everything, anyway. Protesting would only be a waste of time. Just like his brother, Mycroft Holmes didn’t understand the word privacy._

_Molly walked past him and set the bag of food on her unmade bed. With little space left to move, she simply turned around._

“ _I would offer you a chair, but I have none, so…”_

“ _Miss Hooper, let’s not unnecessarily prolong this uncomfortable encounter. I am here to inform you of how we will proceed from here.”_

_Molly balled her hands into fists._

“Inform _me?” she asked stiffly._

_Now she was angry. How dare he making decisions for her? She hadn’t figured out how to go on with her life without Sherlock by her side, but there was no way in hell she was going to take orders from his older brother._

“ _A car will pick you up in an hour to bring you to a village outside of Paris. Much more suitable for raising a child. Good kindergarten, excellent schools. The house is already furnished. I have opened an account. An amount will be transferred on a monthly basis. If anything is missing in your household you can access the funds on this account.”_

“ _No!” Molly yelled angrily, tears blurring her vision._

“ _You will not decide my life for me! I have left so that this wouldn’t happen! I won’t take your money!”_

“ _This money is not for you, Miss Hooper. Honestly, I couldn’t care less if you ended up sleeping under a bridge or worse. But there is a Holmes growing inside you.”_

“ _He’s a Hooper!”_

“ _Are you saying Sherlock isn’t the father?”_

_Oh, the hope in his eyes. It made her want to scratch those blue ice cubes out of their sockets._

“ _Of course he is!”_

_His face fell and Molly was close to laughing._

“ _Then it’s settled.”_

“ _Nothing is settled! I won’t take anything from you! Now get out!”_

_Mycroft slammed his umbrella into the carpet. Molly flinched._

“ _You will take the house. And you will take the money. It’s not for you. It’s for Sherlock’s child. And if I hear that you decline either, I will make sure that the baby will be home with us right after its birth!”_

_Molly’s eyes widened and she wrapped her arms around her belly protectively._

“ _You wouldn’t do that…”_

_Mycroft Holmes straightened, staring right into her eyes._

“ _You have no idea of what I will do to protect my family. And I would recommend that you don’t try to find out, Miss Hooper.”_

_Molly’s knees gave way and she sank onto the bed. She was too tired to fight with him. She didn’t have the strength. And all that stress wasn’t good for her child._

“ _All I want is my baby”, she said tonelessly, looking at the cheap black carpet._

“ _If you co-operate, you shall have it. Your pregnancy has been wiped off your file, in case he looks into it. Sherlock will never know he has offspring. It’s the best for everyone.”_

_Sherlock…he would never know…_

_A tear fell from her lashes when she nodded in agreement._

“ _An hour, Miss Hooper”, were the last words Mycroft Holmes said to her before he left._

_They wouldn’t speak for the next four years._


	4. Chapter 4

Molly looked at her daughter. She might regret a lot of things, but not her. Every single minute they had spent together made up for all the pain. 

Suddenly, Julie’s eyes widened and her hand reached out to interlace her small fingers with her mother’s.

Molly looked into the direction Julie was looking and stiffened. 

There he was, after all these years. 

He had gained a couple of pounds. His hair had thinned out more and he wore it shorter than she had ever seen it. There were lines of age on his face, but he looked as sharp as ever. The umbrella was making soft noises as he walked towards them, his eyes fixed on the young girl.

Molly rose from her seat to greet him.

“Mycroft.”

“Doctor Hooper.”

He looked up at her briefly, quickly deducing her with his eyes, but losing interest instantly. They didn’t shake hands. Instead, Mycroft held his hand out to Julie. 

Molly felt how her hand wrapped tighter around her own.

“It’s okay, Julie”, Molly said and smiled down at her encouragingly. 

“I have been informed you desire to meet your father. Is this not the case?” Mycroft asked and his eyes fixed on Julie. 

The girl swallowed hard. His eyes were piercing. He didn’t look friendly at all. This was supposed to be her uncle?  
“You don’t look much like my father. Are you sure you are related?”

Mycroft blinked and Molly bit her tongue not to laugh at his dumbfounded expression. 

“Not all siblings look alike”, Mycroft answered.

“They always do a little. That’s the reason for reproduction, isn’t it? To pass on the genes. You’re facial features are nothing like your brother’s. To be sure I have to see your parents, but right now I am fairly sure that you had a different father.”

“Julie!”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow and looked his niece up and down. Molly was prepared to step in at any moment to prevent an impertinent deduction, but she was surprised when Mycroft nodded his head.

“You will meet your grandparents next Sunday. But believe me, I indeed am their child. I spent ages trying to prove I wasn’t. But genes don’t lie.”

“You tested your DNA?” Julie asked in surprise.

“Several times, yes.”

“Crystal! Can you show me how to do this?”

Mycroft blinked at the usage of the word ‘crystal’, a new product of the zeitgeist.

“If you insist.”

There was a sharp pang in her heart when Julie let go of Molly’s hand to finally shake Mycroft’s.

“I’m Julie Hooper”, she said, introducing herself. 

Molly could have been wrong, but she thought there was a smile on his lips for a second.

“Mycroft Holmes. Pleased to meet you.”

Julie smiled up at him and Molly felt like her daughter was slipping through her fingers. But she had sworn herself that she wouldn’t deny Julie to go see her father if she ever asked her. And she would live up to that vow. She had lost her own father too young. She didn’t want this for Julie. 

“Well, we should get going.”

Molly nodded, blinking back tears, and handed Mycroft the luggage. Julie shouldered her black rucksack with the painted stars on it and turned to her mother.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” she asked, feeling the pain of separation mixing with her euphoria. 

Molly hugged her daughter and pressed a kiss on the top of her head. 

“Yes. I would just ruin your month with your father. Be a good girl and don’t give him such a hard time, okay? Call or text me once a day. Promise. Just so I know you are okay. And if you want to come home sooner,” she threw a warning glance to Mycroft, “call me, too. Promise?”

Molly held out her pinkie. Julie took it by hooking her own pinkie under it. They shook their hands once.

“Promise.”

“I love you”, Molly said, and pulled Julie in for long hug. She kissed her daughter’s face until Julie complained and pushed her away.

“Not in public, Mum!”

Molly laughed. 

“Sorry.”

Julie looked up at her for a moment, tears shimmering in her eyes.

“Bye.”

“Have fun, sweetie.”

Julie looked over her shoulder as they walked through the security gate, seeing her mother walking out of the hall, all alone, her arms tightly wrapped around herself. Then Mycroft called her and she ran over to him. She would be fine, she told herself.

  
  


Her eyes widened when they entered a big private hangar after driving across the airfield in a shiny black car, where there was an even shinier plane waiting for them. 

“Are you rich?” Julie blurted out.

“It depends on your definition of rich”, Mycroft simply said as he shook hands with the pilot.

“This is Anthea. She is my assistant. If you have any questions or if you need anything, inform her.”

A beautiful woman stepped up to them and Julie couldn’t help but stare at her while she shook her hand. 

“Would you like me to take your rucksack, Julie?”

Julie was surprised as the woman asked in perfect French. 

“No, thank you…can my uncle speak French?” she asked with a quick side-glance to Mycroft who was talking to the pilot.

“I’m afraid not.”

Julie grinned. 

“This might come in handy.”

Anthea laughed and motioned Julie to climb the stairs to the plane. 

They sat down, Anthea next to her and Mycroft opposite her in a very comfy chair, and Julie took a moment to inspect the luxurious interior. When her curiosity had been satisfied, she focused on Mycroft again.

“You’re not in the mafia or something, are you?”

Anthea burst into laughter until a look from Mycroft silenced her abruptly. 

“No. I work for the government, but some might say there are similarities.”

Julie furrowed her brows.

“That’s the Holmes humour. You get used to it”, Anthea said in French.

“My Mum has a weird sense of humour, too.”

“I remember.”

Julie looked at her with surprise.

“You know her?”

“It’s part of my job to know every acquaintance of the Holmes brothers.”

“Why? I thought you only work for Mycroft?”

“I do. But your uncle is always worried about your father, so it has become one of my many duties to keep an eye on him, too.”

“If you talk about me in French, you might want to avoid saying my name”, Mycroft commented dryly while he read the newspaper. 

Julie blushed a little, but Anthea just winked at her.

“Why are you worried about my father?” Julie asked him directly and Mycroft peeked over his newspaper. 

“He has the habit of getting himself in trouble. He’s quite careless about his own safety. Speaking of which, you will not accompany him on one of his cases, even if he allows you to. If I learn that you have – and believe me, I _will_ know – you will be on the next plane back to France. Is that understood?”

Julie folded her arms across her chest and pouted. She wasn’t good at taking orders.

“You’re not my father.”

“No. I’m your uncle.”

Julie waited for more, but Mycroft’s head had already disappeared behind the newspaper again. So Julie glanced at Anthea, who just shrugged her shoulders. 

“Isn’t it normally the father who orders the child around? I’ve never had one before, but from what I observed from my classmates, this is how it’s supposed to be. An uncle normally is to bring gifts and take his niece out for ice cream.”

Anthea snorted at the image of Mycroft actually going out, lapping away at an ice cream scone, but quickly turned her snort into a cough when she saw Mycroft’s threatening eyebrow. 

“’ _Normal_ ’ is a word not often associated with neither of us…or ever. Sherlock might be your father, but you’re my responsibility.”

“Why?”

“That’s just the way it is in our family.”

Mycroft hid behind the newspaper again. Julie looked at her hands before looking out of the window.

“No wonder you’re so grumpy. If I had this much responsibility, I’d be grumpy, too.”

Julie’s thoughts drifted to her fight with her mother. Doing the laundry didn’t seem such a bad thing compared to take care of a whole family. It had been the same for her mother. Julie had never really thought about it. She had looked after her for her whole life. She had always been there. Had taken care of everything. Had worked hard so she could buy Julie her telescope and put the sky light in. Even though they’d fought a lot lately, she had never held a grudge. She had always forgiven Julie’s childish outbursts.

_Mum…_

Lost in her musings, Julie failed to notice how Mycroft had put down the newspaper and looked at her for a long time. At one point, Anthea switched places so she sat next to Mycroft, interlacing her fingers with his while she checked her e-mails on her phone. 

  
  


~oOo~

  
  


Both hands pressed against the window, Julie looked up to the window at 221b Baker Street, her heart drumming against her chest. She was really here. In London, England. In front of her father’s flat. Where her father was currently upstairs, with no clue that she was coming. Mycroft had told her he wanted it to be a surprise. Julie wasn’t so sure if it was a good idea to surprise someone with a daughter, but sometimes she wasn’t able to follow an adult’s reasoning. Mycroft was a clever man – albeit not much of an entertainer – and he would know best, she thought. 

“We’ve been here for ten minutes, Julie”, Mycroft pointed out casually, sitting next to her, going through some files Anthea had handed him. 

“I’m not ready”, Julie repeated for the third time. 

She jumped when a mobile started ringing. 

Mycroft took out his phone and looked at the display, nodding at her before he answered it. 

“Sherlock”, he said and Julie’s heart skipped a beat. She could hear his muffled voice through the phone.

“I wasn’t sure you were home.” – “I have an interesting case. A life-changing one, actually.”

Julie bit her bottom lip and fumbled with the knitted hat in her lap. 

“It would be best to come up. You are wearing clothes, aren’t you? See you in a minute, then.”

Mycroft shut off the phone and pocketed it. He looked at Julie.

“It’s time.”

Julie took a deep breath, glancing up at the windows again. 

“Okay.”

She put her hat on and nodded to Mycroft, opened the door when he did and climbed out of the car. Julie felt as if she had to throw up, which had happened only twice in her life, thank Goodness. Her heart was beating fast and her legs felt all wobbly. Still, she followed Mycroft as he let himself into 221b Baker Street, adjusting the knocker as he pushed the door open. Hesitantly, Julie set her foot into the building for the first time in her life. She looked around the dark corridor, taking in as much detail as she could master in her nervous state. She breathed in, identifying cooking smells, tobacco, detergent and some more biting smells, almost like chemicals, all clashed together into the unique scent that was 221b. 

Mycroft glanced down at her as he walked past her, heading for the stairs. Julie followed him, a part of her wanting her mother to be with her, holding her hand. Then she scolded herself for being such a baby and hurried to ascend the stairs, but slowed down again as they turned the corner for the next flight of stairs and the sound of quick footsteps echoed down to her.

“I must say, Mycroft, you’re very creative when it comes to thinking of ways to interest me in one of your little government cases. ‘Life-changing. Very amusing. As if I would want that.”

A shadow rushed past the open door, Mycroft blocking most of the view. 

“Good day to you, too, Sherlock.”

Trying to make no sound, Julie silently climbed the stairs, steadying herself with a hand pressed against the wall. Her legs felt even more wobbly now that she had heard his voice. And what a fascinating voice it was. Low and powerful, authoritative, but in a pleasant way. Julie swallowed hard and pulled the hat from her head while she listened to her uncle and her father talking. 

“Alright, alright. Enough with the pleasantries. Just tell me what you want. I’m quite busy.”

“A new experiment?”

“What do you care?”

“Just making conversation.”

Sherlock snorted as he pushed a stack of newspapers off the coffee table, looking for something.

Julie had reached the top of the stairs and was standing behind Mycroft now, breathing flatly and peeking around him to get a first glimpse of the man who once had been her mother’s boyfriend. He was slim, dressed in black trousers and a red shirt, sleeves pulled up to his elbows. He had his back turned to her and was bent over the coffee table, rummaging through the stuff that was lying on top of it. The flat was a mess. Julie could even notice it while she was staring at her father, thinking that her mother would freak out if she ever made such a mess in her room.

“What are you looking for?” Mycroft inquired, feeling Julie’s presence in his back.

“Pipette. John brought me a petri dish with chicken pox yesterday.”

“You have to throw that out.”  
“I had chicken pox, Mycroft! Don’t you remember?”  
“Oh, I will never forget the two weeks you had to run around with oven gloves taped to your hands so you would stop scratching. You have been obnoxious.”

Sherlock growled, muttering something under his breath Julie couldn’t catch. 

“No,” Mycroft continued, “you have to throw it out because I don’t know if Julie had chicken pox.”

While he spoke, Sherlock had found the pipette and let out a triumphant  _ha!_ , needing a second to process his brother’s words. 

“Julie? Who’s Ju-“

Time froze as he turned around and her father’s eyes settled on Julie for the very first time. His eyes widened and his lips parted. Julie’s hammering heart stopped beating. Her own eyes were wide and staring at the man from the photograph. 

He hadn’t changed much. He had two lines on his forehead and wrinkles between his eyebrows. He was thinner than in the picture, causing his high cheekbones to stand out more. The dark shadows around his eyes made him look tired. His hair was still full but spiked with grey at his temples. But all in all, her father was still beautiful. And his eyes and his mouth looked just like hers. 

  
  


~oOo~

  
  


While Julie’s eyes roamed his face searching for similarities, Sherlock’s eyes were overwhelmed with them. But he didn’t see himself in this little face. 

No. He saw  _her_ .

The pixie nose, the soft facial features, the brown hair, the expression…

So much of her. 

_Molly…_

Sherlock’s heart clenched as her name echoed through his mind. It had been so long since he had slipped, since he had thought her name. But now it was there…everywhere. From every wall of his mind palace did her name echo, re-claiming the rooms it once had owned.

_No. No more. Focus. Think!_

This was clearly her daughter. And his daughter. The eyes and the mouth gave it away. She was their daughter. 

She had been pregnant when she left. With his child.

Had she known?

Is this why she had left?

_Stop it! Just stop! The ‘_ why’ _is not important. Not anymore…_

  
  


He had a daughter. He had had a daughter for twelve years. And she had never told him. 

He hadn’t seen her grow up. He hadn’t seen her first steps, or heard her first word. He had missed all the milestones in her development. 

_She_ had taken this from him. She had forbidden him to be a part of his daughter’s life. She had forbidden him to know that there was a person that was half him and half her. 

How much she must hate him…

But what had changed that she allowed him to know now? He surely hadn’t changed. It must have been her. 

_Simple change of heart?_

_Hardly._

_Not after twelve years._

_Danger?_

But why would she be in danger? She was a forensic pathologist. He had always been the reason if she had been in danger. Maybe she had fallen for another sociopath? 

The mere thought of her in another man’s arms made him cringe. It was a picture that haunted him in his nightmares. 

_What else?_

_Sickness? Or even worse?_

  
  


Sherlock couldn’t breathe as the thought passed him. His heart, which had been dulled with endless cases and experiments and knowledge, started bleeding again. 

Even after all these years, after all the pain and the bitterness that he had poured into his heart to close the wound, the thought of a world with her not in it was unbearable. 

“Is she dead?” he croaked, looking at Mycroft’s tie. 

The second it took Mycroft to answer felt endless.

“No.”

Sherlock loathed the relief which washed over him and the bliss his heart felt for a second that she was still alive.

He desperately tried to fight down the feelings that wanted to bubble to the surface.

_No more. No more._

“Then why…?”

His mind was blank. He couldn’t come up with any more reasons of why she allowed him to see his daughter.

“Julie wanted to meet you.”

Sherlock’s eyes fell on this lovely face again, which brought back so many memories of the face he had once loved most in this world. 

“You wanted to see me.”

The girl nodded, clutching the little white knitted hat in her hands. 

“Je…J’ai trouvé une photo…”

Sherlock’s eyes darted to Mycroft.

French. She was speaking French. 

She had been in France the whole time…Only a one-hour flight away…

Mycroft put a hand on her shoulder.

“She didn’t know about your existence. Her mother had planned to tell her when she’s older. But when she found out and wanted to see you, her mother instantly called me to bring her to you.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened once more.

“You have talked to her yesterday, while you were here. Julie…”

Finally, the name rang a bell. She had spoken to Mycroft with him being only a few feet away. She knew his number…

“You have known all along. You knew where she hid and you knew I have a daughter!”

His voice was pure venom and Julie flinched, stepping closer to Mycroft. 

“Yes. I have ensured that your child would grow up having everything she needs.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Sherlock was shouting now, oblivious to the fact that it scared Julie. He was too overwhelmed with all this new information and the old wounds that had been ripped open. His thoughts were tumbling around in his head and he could barely contain his anger, frustration and the bitterness.

“She didn’t want me to. She wanted to raise the child on her own.”

Sherlock panted for air and whirled around, throwing the pipette in his hand against the mirror over the fireplace. 

Julie gasped as the glass pipette shattered into pieces after cracking the mirror. 

Mycroft squeezed her shoulder comfortingly and pulled her against his side. Of course Julie had no idea how untypical this outburst was for Sherlock.

“The past can’t be changed, Sherlock. But the future is still in your hands. Your daughter is here now. Don’t waste this opportunity by scaring her off.”

Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut, focusing of Mycroft’s words, following them through the raging storm of emotions to the safe land of reason. He breathed in and out slowly a few times. When he opened his eyes again, the storm had calmed. 

He turned around, looking at the girl again.

His daughter. 

Now that the rage had been forced into the deep dungeons of his mind palace, a new feeling was spreading in his chest. A warm feeling. 

He tried out a smile – he hadn’t smiled in a while – and walked over to her, holding out a hand.

Her eyes were huge.

“Sherlock Holmes.”

Hesitantly, she stepped forward, looking at his outstretched hand for a long moment. She swallowed hard and slowly placed her little hand in hers. His long fingers curled around hers and she gasped as she felt his warmth. 

“Julie Hooper”, she said in a shaky voice and looked up at him. 

  
  


She really was here. In London. Holding her father’s hand. She beamed up at him. His smile faltered for a moment and he swallowed, but then he smiled again and this time it did reach his eyes.

“Welcome to England, Julie Hooper.”


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock and Julie stood rooted to the spot for a long time, holding hands and observing each other. Mycroft had sat down on the couch at one point, his coat and his signature umbrella hanging over the armrest.

The ringing of a bell broke the magic between father and daughter and Sherlock finally let go of the small warm hand.

“Excuse me for a moment.”

“Okay.”

Mycroft watched how Julie looked after him walking into the kitchen with a dreamy expression on his face, tears shimmering in her eyes. A smile played around his mouth, but he wiped it off by clearing his throat.

“I take it that you would prefer staying here rather than with me?”

Julie needed a second before she realized he was talking to her, but Sherlock was quick to answer. 

“Of course she will stay with me. This is my daughter.”

Julie’s heart swelled with joy.

“Yes, I would like that very much.”

“So you do speak English”, Sherlock said as he strolled back into the living room, hands in his pockets. 

“Of course. I’m the best in my class, although I guess it doesn’t say much with my mum being English.”

Sherlock lowered his eyes and Julie saw how he stiffened. It was then when she decided to mention her mother as least as possible. She didn’t want to spoil her time with him. 

“Sometimes, I switch between French and English without noticing”, she added quickly. 

“You grew up with both languages. They both feel natural to you. In what language do you think?”

“Sorry?”

“When you’re thinking. About school, food, clothes, friends, whatever. In what language are you thinking?”

Julie paused to think about it.

“It depends. When I’m home, I think in English. But when I’m at school or at Maggie’s house, I think in French. I never paid attention to it before.”

“Maggie?”

“Maguerite. My best friend…Merde!”

Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, sorry. I just remembered that I haven’t told her that I’m leaving…it all happened so fast that I totally forgot. She will be furious.”

“You should call her, then”, Mycroft said. 

“Would that be okay?” Julie asked, turning back to Sherlock.

“Of course. The phone is…” he pointed to the station, but the phone wasn’t there. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen it in a while. So he pulled out his mobile and handed it to her. He noticed how gently she wrapped her fingers around it, blushing. Sherlock’s jaw clenched. 

Even the blush was so much like her…he had loved to make her blush back then.

_Enough with this!_

“Thank you”, Julie said.

“You can go upstairs. The room is yours.”

“Thank you”, she said again, beamed up at him for a moment before she dashed off.

Sherlock looked after her, making a mental note that he had to put out new sheets on the bed and dust off the furniture. 

But first, he had to deal with his brother, who stood up as soon as his eyes settled on him.

“How long?”

“A month.”

“Just one month?”

“She has to go to school, Sherlock.”

Sherlock balled his hands into fists.

“She had her for twelve years.”

“Maybe you can come to an agreement that is acceptable to all three of you.”

“I will not speak to her.”

Mycroft laughed and slipped into his coat.

“Don’t be ridiculous. She is the mother of your child. At one point, you will have to talk to her.”

“You can talk to her. You’re overjoyed when you can get put your nose into my business. This time I allow you to interfere. Come to an arrangement that is acceptable.”

The brothers looked at each other for a moment. Then Mycroft nodded. 

“I will see you next week. Give Mrs Hudson my best.”

“What is next week?”

“Sunday.”

“I meant, what do you want?”

Mycroft turned at the door.

“We will visit our parents. They will want to meet her, too.”

Sherlock furrowed his brows. 

Mycroft just rolled his eyes.

“Don’t forget to feed her”, he said before he left. 

  
  


The kettle boiled, so Sherlock couldn’t wonder about his brother’s behavior. He prepared the tea and put it on the tray together with cups and some biscuits.

When it was done, he stepped into the hallway. 

He hesitated. 

Should he call her? 

_Julie…_

A classical, solid name. Not too fancy, yet beautiful. He could see her choosing this name. 

Sherlock shook his head. He didn’t want to think of her. 

Not consciously, at least. 

It had taken years until he had successfully pushed her into the furthest corners of his mind. All this work shouldn’t be in vain.

He ascended the stairs, taking her luggage, and halted in front of the door, listening to the excited, French-speaking voice and smiled.

It had been so long since another voice echoed from the walls of 221b, not counting the occasional visitors and clients. 

Sherlock knocked then, a few words were whispered hastily and the door was opened. 

“Sorry.”

“What for?” Sherlock asked as he entered and placed her big red bag on the floor, making a quick check of what needed to be cleaned in this room. 

“For taking so long.”

“That’s no problem. I hope she wasn’t too mad?”

“Oh, not that much. After I told her I am with my father, she calmed down very quickly.”

Sherlock smiled and took back his phone when she held it out to him. 

“I’ve got one, too. I just forgot I had it. Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“So– okay.”

She fumbled with her phone, a bright yellow protective case around it and Sherlock tilted his head.

“You want to show me your phone.”

Julie blushed.

“I…I took some pictures…of my room and school and some places I like…only if you like, of course. I thought you might want to see where I grew up.”

Her voice got weaker with every word and trailed off at the end. 

She was nervous, Sherlock figured. 

Well, it was an important day for her. And for him, too. 

“Yes, I would like to see where you grew up. But I suggest we bring Mrs Hudson her tea first. Otherwise you will have to show her your pictures again and that is just a waste of time.”

“Who is Mrs Hudson?”

“My housekeeper.”

Julie followed Sherlock down the stairs and waited at the door for Sherlock to pick up the tray. 

Without a word they went down to 221C and he opened the door with a foot before he walked in.

“Oh, this is going to be fun”, he muttered and grinned for a moment. 

“Mrs Hudson?” he called out to her.

“I’m in the kitchen.”

“What are you doing there?” Sherlock said crossly as he stepped into the little kitchen, glancing at Julie to motion her to wait beside the door. 

Obviously, both her uncle and her father loved surprises, Julie mused. 

“The doctor said you shouldn’t sit on a hard chair”, Sherlock scolded Mrs Hudson as he set the tray on the little table. The old lady waved him off.

“I’m tired of lying around. A few minutes on a chair won’t kill me.”

Sherlock huffed as he poured some tea into the three cups. Mrs Hudson took a biscuit and nibbled at it when her eyes fell on the third cup.

“Is John coming?” she asked cheerfully, but Sherlock shook his head.

“I’ll get you another cushion. You can get acquainted with Julie in the meantime.”

“Julie? Who is Julie?”

Julie saw the big grin on his face as he walked out of the kitchen, nodding her to go in. 

Hesitantly, Julie did. 

The elder lady’s eyes looked confused for a second, then her eyes widened.

“OOOH! OOOH!”

“You’re sounding like an owl, Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock commented as he came back, a big red cushion in his hand. 

While Mrs Hudson had her hands clasped in front of her mouth and tears in her eyes, staring at Julie like she was a ghost, Sherlock carefully put an arm around her and lifted her off the chair to put the cushion beneath her bum.

“Are you okay?” Julie asked, carefully stepping closer. 

Mrs Hudson was unable to speak and Sherlock chuckled.

“Bravo, Julie. I have never been able to shut her up. Made her scream a few times, but I never got silence. Very well done. Sit down.”

He pulled a chair back and Julie sat down next to him, gazing at the older woman who was staring back at her, a tear slipping down her face. 

“Are you sure she’s not having a stroke or something?”Julie whispered after another minute of silence. 

“Oh, you’re just as impossible as your father!”

Sherlock laughed. 

“She has figured it out, it seems.”

Julie smiled proudly. She was very happy that she looked so much like him.

“How can you not see it?! She is the perfect mix of both your best features.”

Sherlock stiffened again and Julie looked down. 

“Oh, let me hug you, dear child!”

Julie smiled shyly and got up as Mrs Hudson stretched her arms out. She was pulled into a bear hug and was covered in kisses.

“Don’t break my daughter, Mrs Hudson.”

“Your daughter! Let me look at you. You are so beautiful!”

Mrs Hudson cupped her face and Julie smiled helplessly as Mrs Hudson squished her cheeks with her hands. 

“Thank you, Mrs Hudson”, she mumbled and escaped her squishing touch to sit down again. 

Mrs Hudson wiped the tears off her face.

“You’re lucky that I can’t get up, Sherlock. You deserve a slap for not telling me that you have a child! And there I sit and worry about you for years!”

“I didn’t know”, Sherlock said through gritted teeth and drank his tea.

“What?”

“Are you going deaf now, too? I didn’t know I have a twelve year old daughter.”

Mrs Hudson looked nothing but shocked and Julie shrunk in her seat as her eyes fixed on her. 

“No”, she said after a minute, “she wouldn’t do this to you.”

“Obviously, you’re wrong.”

Mrs Hudson shook her head. “I can’t believe this. If you would only tell me what happened between you two.”

“Let’s not talk about this now.”

“She wouldn’t just leave while carrying your child under her heart.”

“Mrs Hudson”, Sherlock warned her and Julie saw the storm clouds forming above his head. 

“She fought so long for you. She loved you so much.”

The elderly lady and Julie flinched as Sherlock slammed his fist on the table, causing the porcelain to clank loudly. 

Julie watched how her father’s jaw clenched and his hand trembled before he balled them into fists. He shot up from his seat and stormed out of the room. She could hear the door swing open and slam shut again.

Julie’s heart was drumming against her chest and she stared at her hands. Her face felt hot and she swallowed down the lump in her throat.

“I’m sorry, dear. That was my fault.”

Mrs Hudson put a comforting hand on top of hers. 

“He has quite a temper and your mother…well, she is a soft spot.”

“I figured as much.”

Mrs Hudson smiled sadly. 

“He loved her very much and when she left…it broke his heart. I’ve never seen him like this. So…forlorn.”

Julie nodded. “That’s what mum said. That she broke his heart, I mean.”

Mrs Hudson bit her lip, but curiosity got the better of her.

“Did she tell you why she left?”

She blushed.

“She said she wanted me more than him.”

Mrs Hudson sighed and shook her head, remembering all these years, Sherlock never being the same again. Oh, he had tried to fool everyone, of course, pretended that he was over it the next day, taking up countless of cases. But she had known it was his way of running away from his feelings. He had forbidden himself to grief or to fight for Molly. He had been too proud for his own good. And Molly…Mrs Hudson still didn’t understand why she had run away. They had been so happy together. She remembered the giggles and squeals and laughter coming from upstairs almost every night for a year. She had been so happy for them, especially for Sherlock. She had never seen him like this, so happy and relaxed and almost cheerful (well, for a Holmes). She had never doubted the sincerity of his feelings for her. Hadn’t Molly seen how happy he had been with her? Hadn’t she known how much he had loved her?

  
  


The landlady sighed again. 

“Dearest one, you mustn’t think of this as your fault. This was something between the two of them.”

“But that’s what she said.”

“Did she say it was your fault?”

Julie thought about it for a second.

“Well, not in these words…”

“Then stop thinking that. Maybe she didn’t trust him enough. Maybe she was too afraid of his lifestyle. Maybe she was afraid that you might get into danger because of his work.”

“So it is my fault.”

“No! It was their fault. It was her fault not to talk to him before she left. She never gave him a chance. That she didn’t tell him about you was very wrong. Even though he isn’t perfect, he didn’t deserve this. But it was his fault too. He just let her go. I never understood why he didn’t go after her.”

“He didn’t know where she had gone.”

“Believe me, dear, if he had wanted to, he would have found her within a minute. But he was too hurt. And too proud to ask her to come home. It was not your fault. Not at all.”

Before she knew it, tears fell from Julie’s eyes and she quickly wiped them away. Mrs Hudson reached for her hand again.

“I’m sorry if I have spoiled this day. I certainly didn’t want to make you cry. Why don’t you tell me about you while we wait for your father to calm down and come back? I must know all about you, little angel.”

Julie made a face at the term of endearment and Mrs Hudson laughed. The girl smiled and hesitantly started to tell her about her life in France, her school, her friends, her favorite classes and her room with the skylight. At one point she pulled out her phone and showed her the pictures she had made, sadly thinking that her father was missing it all.

  
  


~oOo~

  
  


Sherlock walked the streets of London, not paying attention to where he went, while unwanted memories flashed in front of his eyes. He cursed under his breath, as he was not able to lock them away like he usually did. And he remembered it all. Every minute he had been in her arms. Every minute they had spent together as a couple and even when they hadn’t been a couple. Sherlock had never been able to throw her out of his mind palace, no matter how forcefully he had tried. In the end, he had shut her away in the cellar. Her room was at the far back of it. There wasn’t a door. He had blocked it up with heavy black bricks, leaving no signs of the existence of the room whatsoever. But now, as he hurried down there while he actually hurried through the familiar streets of London, he found the wall destroyed, bricks lying on the cobble stone floor. Just as he wanted to repair the damage and picked up one of the bricks, he heard a soft giggle coming out of the black hole in the wall. Sherlock froze as her voice echoed from the walls, only whispers at first. Whispers of love. All the lies she had told him. Then the whispers got louder, turning into echoes of past arguments about everything and nothing. In the mid of all of it, he heard her saying his name, over and over again, in different pitches of voice, gentle and tender, humored and happy and scolding and angry. 

Sherlock let the brick fall and ran for his life, slamming the door to the cellar shut, locking it and throwing chains over it for good measure. 

Finally, it fell silent. 

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment to calm down.  That’s when he heard her voice coming directly from behind the door.

“ _Sherlock!”_

  
  


“Ah!” Sherlock cried out, being ripped out of his mind palace. He blinked a few times, trying to figure out where his legs had carried him. His lips parted and his eyes widened in shock as he looked up to the building he had once jumped off of. 

His heart drummed painfully fast against his chest as he looked at the oldest hospital in Britain, her former workplace and his former ‘home away from home’. 

He hadn’t been here in ages. There hadn’t been a reason after she had left. 

  
  


Sherlock took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. There was a headache forming behind his eyes and he decided to walk around in the nearby park for a while, to calm down and to plan what he was going to do with Julie. He wanted to know everything about her. So far, she seemed polite and shy, spicing up the mix with a sense of humour. 

One month. 

He had one month with her all to himself. God knows what would happen after that. But one thing was already clear to him: He would do everything to keep her in his life, whether Mycroft came to an agreement with her mother or not. 

  
  


~oOo~

  
  


The sun had almost set when Sherlock came back to Baker Street. As he unlocked the door, French pop music greeted him from upstairs. He noticed a long string lying on the stairs as he ascended them. When he reached the top of the stairs, he found his living room almost cleaned up. The countless of papers had been stacked to two towers so that the coffee table was visible again, the cushions on the couch had been rearranged and fluffed up and his desk had been tidied up, a small yellow laptop on top of his black one. Even the carpet had been hovered and Sherlock raised an eyebrow. Of course it had been Julie. Mrs Hudson was in no condition to clean after her hip operation. 

The kitchen, or more accurately, Sherlock’s lab, had been left untouched and he was glad of this. Before he went upstairs to her room, he cleaned out the chicken pox and most of his experiments. 

Just as he was about to throw away the bag of eyeballs, Julie came down, singing along to the song that was playing until she saw him.

“Oh!” she exclaimed in surprise and blushed.

Sherlock saw her eyes fixing on the transparent bag of eyeballs and he quickly moved it behind his back. 

“I was experimenting…”

Julie smiled, a bucket of soap water in her hand, and walked into the kitchen. 

“I know. Mrs Hudson warned me about it. But don’t worry. These things don’t gross me out. I’ve already dissected a frog and cut open the eyeball of a cow. And I’ve already seen a few dead bodies.”

He frowned at this and Julie hurried to add: “Accidents…well, the first one was. I had gotten tired of waiting and just went into the morgue and well, saw things. After that, I was curious.”

She shrugged her shoulders.

Sherlock only nodded as Julie smiled up at him before she held the sponge into the sink and washed the dirt and soap out.

“You don’t have to throw away your experiments for me. I don’t want to make things complicated”, she said next, drying her hands off with a dishtowel. 

“It’s not. Some of them are dangerous, though.”

“I haven’t touched anything.”

“I know. I would have noticed.”

“Mrs Hudson said you have an excellent memory. But I’m quite good at placing things back exactly where they have been before.”

Sherlock raised a challenging eyebrow and Julie smiled. 

“Fine, let’s see.”

Sherlock went into the living room and immediately pointed out all the things that were different. When he had finished, he turned around confidently until he saw the big grin on his daughter’s face.

“What did I miss?”

“Your chair.”

He turned to look at it.  
“What about it?”

“I flipped the cushion.”

He walked to the chair. The leather was just as wrinkled as he remembered. But it was an old chair and he had flipped the cushion several times so that both sides were equally worn out. Only after he sat down, shifting his behind a little, he noticed that this side was a bit fluffier. 

“There’s always something.”

Julie laughed and he looked at her, smiling. 

“Julie? Julie? Come in, please.”

Julie walked into the hallway and Sherlock finally noticed the tin can hanging on the wall, attached to the string he had noticed earlier. 

“Yes, Mrs Hudson? Do you need anything?”

Julie put the tin can phone to her ear.

“Just wanted to check if you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. Sherlock came home a few minutes ago.”

“Very good then.”

“Bye, Mrs Hudson.”

Julie hung the can over the little nail she had found in the wall. Once, there had been a picture hanging there. 

When Julie saw his look, she pointed next to her, the picture leaning against the wall, hidden from Sherlock’s eyes.

“I have put it there. I can hang it back if you want. I just thought it would be easier to communicate with Mrs Hudson than using the bell.”

Sherlock nodded and stood up from his seat again.

“Good idea. Simple, but effective. So, are you hungry? I probably should cook something for you.”

“Um, thanks…but your kitchen is in not in a fit state to be used as such.”

Sherlock chuckled.

“Take-away then.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rang and Julie folded her hands behind her back. 

“Actually…”

“Ah.”

“It’s Chinese. Mrs Hudson told me what you like.”

“As it seems, all I can do is pay, then.”

Sherlock grabbed his wallet and went down the stairs to pay the delivery man. When he turned around with the bags in his hands, Julie stood in front of him.

“I kind of promised Mrs Hudson that we’d eat with her…don’t really know how it happened…”

He smiled.

“That’s her dark magic. You must always be on guard with her.” Sherlock smiled as he walked into his landlady’s flat.

“I heard that”, came the reply from the living room, where Mrs Hudson was lying on the couch.

“I didn’t whisper, did I?” was Sherlock’s cool reply as he put the bags on the coffee table and went into the kitchen to get plates and forks for them. 

In the meantime, Julie kneeled onto the floor and stuck her head into the bags, looking for the spring rolls. When she had found them, she sat down with her back resting against the couch and stretched out her legs. 

“Would you like a spring roll, Mrs Hudson?”

“Oh, there’s a perfectly comfortable chair right there, Julie”, Mrs Hudson answered, reaching into the open box to grab a spring roll.

“No, Chinese food has to be eaten on the floor. I always do it with my Mum, the coffee table pushed away and both of us sitting like this with the food in between us. We do it every Friday night. That’s movie night.”

Sherlock, who was standing in the doorway, clenched his jaw as he thought of the countless of times he had sat on the floor in his living room just like that, holding her in his arms while they ate take-away and he yelled at the telly.

By clearing his throat he tried to chase his demons away and he walked into the living room, setting the plates on the table. He scattered the food onto said plates and handed them out, receiving a thank you from his landlady and his daughter. As he took his own food, he sat down in the chair and started eating. They ate silently while watching telly, Julie, having a good view at the profile of her father, studied him while she shovelled noodles into her mouth. 

  
  


“You have quite a healthy appetite”, Mrs Hudson commented after they were done and Julie grinned. 

“I can pretty much eat what I want without gaining weight. Mum is very jealous of it.”

Julie flinched at her own words, quickly throwing a glance at her father. He tried to look unaffected by her words, but she could see the tension in his jaw. 

_Merde!,_ she cursed inwardly.

“I think it’s time for bed” Sherlock said after a moment of silence and stood up.

“Oh, no. I’m not tired yet. Please, just one more hour”, Julie pleaded.

Sherlock looked down at her.

“I was talking to Mrs Hudson.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not tired, either”, the elderly woman complained, but Sherlock carefully pulled her up from the couch anyway. 

“You will be after taking your medication.”

Mrs. Hudson huffed, wincing as she tried to walk. 

Julie jumped up from her spot on the floor and took her other arm. Together, Sherlock and Julie led Mrs Hudson to her bedroom. She left as Sherlock helped Mrs Hudson change into her nightgown, and cleaned up the living room. Just after she had finished cleaning the dishes, Sherlock stuck his head into the kitchen. 

“She wants to say goodnight to you.”

“Okay.”

Julie took the tin can phone and carried it into Mrs Hudson’s bedroom. With a smile she put it on her bedside table, then she hugged the woman as she reached out for her.

“Goodnight, little dove.”

Julie rolled her eyes in annoyance, but didn’t say anything.

“Good night, Mrs Hudson.”

“Say hello to your Mum for me, will you?” she asked and Julie cursed in French.

“I totally forgot to call her. What is wrong with me? I never forget anything!”

Mrs Hudson laughed.

“You’ve met your father today. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“I guess. She worries too much.”

“That’s what mothers do. One day, you’ll understand.”

Julie smiled and kissed Mrs Hudson’s cheek.

“Bon nuit.”

  
  


After Julie had silently closed the door, she ran into the kitchen to get her mobile. She froze when she found it in his father’s hands. He was wiping the screen, obviously skimming through the pictures quickly. 

“Hey! How did you crack my password?” 

Julie hurried to rip the phone out of his hands and pressed it to her chest.

“Easy. You should put digits in it. That’s much trickier to deduce.”

“Deduce?” She had never heard this word before.

“Yes. It’s what I do. I observe things and put together the clues I get from it. I deduce.”

“Isn’t that just looking?”

“No, it’s not. Everyone looks, but people barely observe.”

Julie snorted. “Don’t touch my phone without my permission”, she warned him with pointing a finger at him.

“You’re twelve. What could you possibly have to hide?”

“I have my secrets!” Julie insisted and left 221C, her father close on her heels.

“As if I care what’s your favorite ‘My little pony’.”

“Hey, I’m twelve! Not five! Do you have any idea what girls my age like?”

“Nail polish and boys?”

Julie only shook her head as she walked up the stairs. 

Sherlock grinned behind her.

“You especially like astronomy. You’re in a science club at school. Some people might say it’s an obsession. But of course you’re just eager to learn. People fail to understand the difference. I assume you will keep up this passion until 14, maybe longer. When puberty hits, people change their priorities. Hormones will flood your body, your sexuality will evolve and you will grow into a woman. You will rebel against everything and change your personality until you find one you feel comfortable with. You will definitely be a pest.”

“I will not change! And I will never stop loving astronomy. I will be an astronomer and work in Hawaii.”

“That’s what Jamie said. Wanted to become a stable hand.  Everything in her room had horses on it. And I mean everything. Then she turned thirteen and now all she can talk about is Jane Austen novels.”

Julie looked up at her father, insecurity in her eyes.

“Who’s Jamie?” she asked in a weak voice. 

It had never occurred to her that her father might have another child.

“John and Mary’s daughter” Sherlock answered, his brows furrowed at the look on her face. 

“Oh, okay.”

“What?”

“Eh, nothing. I just wondered who she is…um, I need to use the bathroom. Excuse me.”

Sherlock looked after the quickly retreating girl and wondered what that had been about.  It took him a few minutes, but when Julie stepped out of the bathroom, he knew what was bothering her.

“I have no other children,” he clarified stiffly. 

Julie blushed. “Okay.”

Awkward silence. 

“Do you…” Sherlock cleared his throat, “…do you have any brothers or sisters?” His heart was beating painfully fast against his chest. He hated it.

“No.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding and nodded. He had no idea why he was reacting this way. He shouldn’t give a toss about it. They had been apart for over ten years. Ordinary people tend to look for another mate at one point. Totally normal…

Then why didn’t this unpleasant, stinging sensation in his chest stop?

Julie tilted her head and looked him up and down. Sherlock stiffened at her intense look and he wondered if he looked somewhat similar when he deduced people. 

Her look-over ended at his eyes. 

With a soft voice, she said: “Since I was born, there have only been the two of us.”

Sherlock gritted his teeth. He gave her a quick nod and turned to the window, folding his hands behind his back.

He could feel her eyes on him. Of course he knew what she was going to ask.

“Have you…I mean…Have you had a girlfriend since…her?”

Sherlock fired his answer as cold as he felt.

“No. Love is a chemical defect, Julie. It had been an experiment which has failed spectacularly. I never had and never will have any interest in doing another experiment in this area.”

Julie winced. He could see it in the reflection of the window. Sherlock knitted his eyebrows and whirled around to her.

“You’re not trying to get your parents back together, are you?”

“What?”

“If this has been your intention by coming here, I can shorten your efforts by telling you that your mother and I are through. I have no interest in her whatsoever and I don’t want to see her or talk to her again.”

A sob fell from his daughter’s lips and a tear rolled down her cheek. 

“That’s not why I came here!” she yelled all of a sudden, and Sherlock was quite taken aback by the outburst.

“I wanted to see you! I wanted to meet my father! That’s all! I wanted to get to know you, to be with you! Is that so bad?”

She didn’t wait for an answer but bolted right up the stairs to her room. 

Sherlock closed his eyes when he heard the door slam shut. 

A bit not good, wasn’t it, he mused as he replayed the conversation in his head. She was a child, he reminded himself. His child, for all it mattered. He could do better than this! 

He knew what it was like to talk to a child. He had babysat Jamie countless times. In fact, they had been very close for a while and even now she sometimes came to him when she had had a fight with her parents. 

Sherlock sighed and picked up his phone to select her number. She answered on the fifth ring.

“Are you dying?”

She had her mother’s sassiness. It had become a joke between them.

“No.”

“Good. What’s up?”

“I need advice on child education.”

“Eh, shouldn’t you talk to Mum, then? Or Dad?”

“No. I need to understand the child.”

“What child?”

“My child.”

“…Are you drunk?”

“What kind of a question is this? Of course I’m not drunk! I don’t drink!”

“You just said you had a child. Oh my God! Did you steal a child for a case or an experiment?”

“Of course not! I just recently discovered that I am the father of a twelve-year-old daughter.”

…

“ **MUUUUM!”**

“NOO!”

But too late. He could hear rustling on the other end of the line and footsteps running. 

He hung up. 

So much for their pact of confidentiality, Sherlock thought sourly. 

Not thirty seconds later, his mobile started ringing. 

Mary. Of course.

He declined her call. 

She called again. 

He pushed the little red phone again.

Next came a text: _Answer your damn phone, Sherlock!  
_  
He chose not to reply. Neither did he pick up when she called again.

A beep announced another message, from John this time.

_Sherlock, the girls are putting on their coats. You better tell us what’s going on or you will have WWIII at 221b._  
  
Sherlock rolled his eyes and fired off a quick text. He certainly didn’t want Mary and Jamie here now.

_Tell them to calm down. You can come tomorrow, when she’s not upset with me anymore. Yes, my daughter. Her name is Julie Hooper._

After a second he fired of another text, knowing exactly what the Watsons were asking themselves right now.

_No, I didn’t know._

  
  


~oOo~

  
  


After World War Three had been successfully prevented, Sherlock took a deep breath before he went upstairs to her room. Music was being played. Instrumental. Sad.

He sighed and knocked.

“I’m sorry.”

He thought this was a good way to start. 

After a minute, she opened the door and looked up at him.

“I’ll go home tomorrow morning, okay?”

The sad look in her eyes was like a punch to the gut. 

“No, it’s not okay. I want you here. I’m sorry if I made the impression that I don’t.”

“But you’re angry. I can see it.”

He smiled at that.

“Yes, you can, can’t you? But my anger is not directed at you.”

“I know. But that doesn’t make it any easier. I’m not my mum. You weren’t the only one who had been lied to…”

Sherlock sighed. He stepped into the room and sat down on her bed, taking a look around. Julie sat down next to him after a moment. He looked at her little hands resting in her lap. Hesitating for a second, Sherlock reached out and took her hand in his, interlacing his fingers with hers. 

Both of them looked at their hands for a long while with the melancholic music in the background.

“What’s this music from?”

“Pelléas et Mélisande. It’s a movie.”

“No, it’s a play.”

“Now it’s a movie.”

“Ah.”

“Do you like movies?”

“No.”

“Okay…”

Sherlock glanced at her.

“I like music.”

Julie looked up at him and smiled.

“Me too.”

“Show me your playlist.”

“It’s mostly French music.”

“Play me your favorite song, then.”

She blushed a little, but nodded and stood up. Sherlock let go of her hand. He instantly missed the contact. How odd. 

He turned around to look at her skimming through her player and marvelled at the connection he already felt to this little girl, even though they had met only a few hours ago.

Was it an instinct that bound him to her? He had instantly felt a responsibility, a wish to protect her. Very odd, but a logical precaution by nature to make sure the offspring survived.

  
  


Julie came back to him, sitting down at the same spot as before. She looked down at his hand and gnawed nervously on her bottom lip. A smile played around Sherlock’s mouth as he once again interlaced his fingers with hers. 

“Who is that?” he asked Julie as they listened to the pop song spiced up with rock and the female soprano voice. 

“Maddie. Her real name is Madeleine Trivous. She’s 25 and a very big star in France. I loooove her!”

Sherlock smiled. 

“Why?”

“Just listen to her voice! It’s like an angel singing…a sassy angel!”

Julie laughed.

“She is very confident and clever. She has taken a few years off to study biology. She says education is more important than her career. Her music label had been furious, but she did it anyway.”

While Julie started rambling about her favorite celebrity, Sherlock took his time and looked at her, memorizing every little detail of her face, how her mouth moved, how her eyes sparkled and how she wildly gestured with her free hand. The other one was still in his and she held on to him the whole time, not letting go once. 

Sherlock didn’t mind. Not at all.


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock looked at the clock as the doorbell rang.

8.18 am.

_Of course._

  


He didn’t bother getting up. A second later, the door was opened anyway and as he heard the voices of Mrs Watson and Miss Watson, he sighed.

“Where is she?” Mary asked as soon as she had entered the kitchen, looking around.

“Good morning to you, too.”

“Not the right time, Sherlock. Where is…oh my God!”

Sherlock looked up at Mary. She had her hand clasped over her heart and was tearing up.

“Good morning” Julie greeted the women and the man who had just come up the stairs with a shy smile.

While the man and woman looked at her with wide eyes (she really should get used to this, Julie thought), the girl with the short blonde hair stepped forward.

“Hi. I’m Jamie.”

“Julie”, Sherlock’s daughter replied and took the hand Jamie offered.

“These are my parents. This is Mary and this is John. I’m sure they’re okay with first name basis…Normally they’re a little more lively than this.”

Julie giggled.

“Don’t worry, Mrs Hudson reacted just like them.”

Jamie grinned and turned to her parents.

“I really should take a picture of them, especially my mum. Normally, she never shuts up.”

“Jamie!” Mary scolded her daughter, finally shaken out of her stun.

“It’s aliiiive!” Jamie joked and jumped out of her mother’s reach when she tried to grab her.

With a brief, menacing glare at her daughter, Mary reached out her hand and finally smiled down at Julie.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Julie.”

“Thank you, Mrs…”

“Mary is fine.”

Julie nodded and smiled as Mary pulled at her husband’s jacket to get him into the kitchen.

“Hi” he said a little too loud as Mary pinched him and shook her hand as well.

“I’m John.”

“Hello.”

“Yes, fine. You have seen her now. Goodbye” Sherlock snapped, but then he saw the look Mary gave him and knew it wasn’t the end of it.

John twitched his eyebrows and Jamie nodded. They were all in it together, apparently.

“Julie, would you show me your room?”

“Um…sure…”

“Don’t worry. They won’t kill him. They just ‘interrogate’”, Jamie made air quotes and smiled at Julie.

Julie threw a worried glance at her father, but he just nodded, telling her it was okay.

“You know, my father lived in your room, once.”  
“Oh, so he is the assistant.”

“Yup.”

Sherlock listened to the fading voices as well as his friends until the door was closed.

Fearing the worst, Sherlock stood up…and uttered an _‘oof’_ when he was pulled into Mary’s arms roughly.

“Oh, Sherlock. I’m so sorry.”

Fighting down the emotions, Sherlock quickly patted Mary’s shoulder and pushed her away gently.

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t even try to fib now. This is serious. What do you know?”

Sherlock went over to the coffee machine to pour his guests some coffee. It wasn’t a gesture of hospitality. He just wanted to escape Mary’s piercing eyes.

With his back turned to his friends, Sherlock briefly told the story.

“This is unbelievable”, Mary said as she sat down next to John. “I can’t believe she would do something like this. This is so not like her…or was. Have you asked Julie? Maybe she knows more. Or Mycroft. He’s been in on it the whole time, maybe he also knows why she did it. Raising her all by herself. In France, to top it all off!”

Mary shook her head and sipped her coffee.

“I don’t care why she did it,” Sherlock replied coolly and continued to stare into his microscope.

“How can you not care? She took your daughter and ran off without a word!”

“Mary”, John warned her and gave her that special look that told her to not push Sherlock too far. Throughout the years he had learned the signs when Sherlock was about to snap, and the current topic made him snap easily.

Mary sighed in frustration.

“I’m just trying to understand!” she groaned.

“What’s so complicated about it? She obviously thought I wouldn’t be a good father for her child, so she left. Granted, France is a bit over the top, but most probably the hormones had something to do with that.”

Mary looked at Sherlock, feeling so much for him. Not able to stop herself, she reached out and placed a hand over his. Sherlock froze and glanced at her over his microscope. She didn’t say anything. She let him know with her eyes that she was there for him.

For a long moment Sherlock looked down, then he turned his hand so he could take hers in his.

Mary was an extraordinary creature. No matter how hard his shell was, she had always managed to crack it open with one look.

They smiled at each other and let go of their hands when John spoke.

“Anyway, a daughter. That’s something, isn’t it? Good thing you had a lot of practice with Jamie.”

“Obviously, I failed with your daughter. She sold me out yesterday.”

“Well, you can’t blame her. You dropped quite a bomb on her.”

“A daughter, not a bomb.”

Mary laughed.

“Have you guys had breakfast yet? You didn’t forget to feed her, did you?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Why does everyone remind me to feed Julie? I’m not an idiot. And I take perfectly good care of Mrs Hudson. No one’s asking me if I take good care of _her_.”

“Yeah, because Mrs Hudson would throw a frying pan at you if you didn’t prepare meals for her. Julie is just a child.”

“Oh, believe me, she is quite independent. She’s cleaned the flat and…”

“You let your daughter clean up your flat?!” Mary interjected angrily.

“I didn’t tell her to do it. I was out when she did it.”

“You left her alone on her first day?”

“She was with Mr. Hudson! For God’s sake, Mary! Get off my back. She’s still alive, isn’t she?!”

“And not deaf, by the way”, Jamie commented as she and Julie walked into the kitchen.

“Sorry”, Mary quickly apologized and smiled at the twelve-year-old.

“We would like to take you out for breakfast. Only if you want to, of course.”

Julie looked at her father, a hopeful smile on her face.

“Fine”, Sherlock answered, annoyed that he didn’t get to spend the morning with her on his own. “Have to go shopping, anyway.”

“Great. Can we go to the place where they have those giant milkshakes?” Jamie asked.

  


~oOo~

  


Laughter filled the little tearoom. Julie and Jamie got along perfectly and Sherlock was visibly pouting that he wasn’t the centre of her attention anymore. Mary kicked him under the table as he commented about this.

“I don’t want your daughter’s bad influence ruining my daughter.”

“Excuse me? What bad influence?” Jamie protested.

“I came to you in an hour of need and you had nothing better to do than tell your mother!”

“You wanted my advice and the best advice I had was telling Mum and Dad.”

Sherlock snorted.

“Could you please stop fighting because of me?” Julie asked.

“This is not about you. This is about my traitorous goddaughter.”

“Oh, grow up, you man-child.”

While Julie gasped in shock at the harsh words, Jamie and Sherlock only glared at each other. Then Jamie wrapped her arms around Sherlock’s neck, pressed her cheek against his and sang in a girlish voice: “Sorry, Uncle Sherly.”

‘Sherly’ growled, but gave her a quick hug and a peck on her cheek. 

“The day will come when this won’t work anymore.”

“I seriously doubt it.”

Julie was in awe of this scene, the sudden change of mood fascinating her. And she was a little jealous of the obvious closeness between godfather and goddaughter.

  


The breakfast turned into a brunch and Julie told her interested audience all about her school and herself, her hobbies and her friends. She left out her mother completely, not wanting another uncomfortable discussion, but no one asked about her, anyway.

The Watsons were very amusing people. Julie liked all of them, especially Jamie. They exchanged numbers and the older girl made her promise to come by and visit her.

“So, what else do you guys have planned for today?” Mary asked at one point.

“Show her London, if she’s up for it”, Sherlock replied with a look at Julie, who nodded eagerly.

“Wait. _Our_ London or _your_ London?”

“What’s the difference?” Julie inquired.

“They mean all the dark places where Sherlock has to go when he’s on a case.”

“Ooh, can we go there?” Julie asked, her eyes turning big.

Before Sherlock could reply anything, John and Mary yelled “NO!” in unison.

Julie winced at their loud voices and Jamie laughed.

“Sherlock took me with him once when I was, what, five?” Jamie asked Sherlock.

“Six and seven months.”

“Mum punched him after we got back.”

“And I will punch you again if you take Julie to those places”, Mary warned him.

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Apparently, that’s a ‘no’ to your question, Julie. I have no interest in getting punched again. She might be small, but she never misses.”

“Okay.”

Julie couldn’t help but be disappointed. Seeing her father work would have been so cool.

“There will be other, less dangerous opportunities”, Sherlock said with a smile.

She smiled back and nodded happily.

  


~oOo~

  


Even though Sherlock despised sightseeing, it was the best way to introduce his daughter to London. He even bought her a London Mini Map and marked 221b Baker Street, just in case they got separated. But of course he would never let that happen. Not even when a river of tourists poured out of a bus and flooded the street. He just took her hand and guided her through the stream safely. They reached the other side of the street and Sherlock let go of her hand again, glancing down to see the blush on her cheeks. But she quickly looked down on the map and gasped a few seconds later.

“National History Museum! Can we go there? I love museums!”

Sherlock smiled.

“Sure.”

There was a long line in front of the museum. Sherlock ceased this opportunity to impress his daughter. He went past all those people, Julie behind him.

“Um, I don’t know how it works in England, but in France you actually have to stand at the end of the line.”

Sherlock only grinned and walked up to the staff member at the door. The middle-aged man instantly recognized and waved him in with a smile.

“Welcome, Mr Holmes.”

Julie gaped at the staff member, then at her father. Sherlock was very pleased and motioned her to follow him.

“I helped to retrieve an important item once.”

“Wow.”

“Not that difficult. Only took me two days to find the smugglers.”

“Did they shoot at you?”

Sherlock chuckled. “A few times, yes. I also got shot at in the National Gallery once.”

Julie gasped. “Why?”

He gave her a quick review of the “Blind Banker” case, as John had named it back then.

Julie bombarded him with questions until Sherlock ordered her to stop.

“You will miss the museum. The building alone is worth looking at. Not to mention the dinosaur skeletons.”

He smiled at her disappointed sigh and folded his arms behind his back as he slowly strolled through the museum, looking at the displayed items.

After Julie had overcome her disappointment, she rather enjoyed the museum and they ended up spending four hours there, mostly in a comfortable silence.

But as soon as they stepped out of the beautiful building, Julie picked up on their earlier conversation as if those four hours hadn’t passed.

“Tell me more about your job”, she demanded excitedly.

“What would you like to know?” Sherlock asked as he put his coat back on.

“Everything.”

“I’m the world’s only consulting detective. Scotland Yard comes to me if they find themselves with a case they can’t solve…which happens often enough. When the Yard doesn’t need me, I take on private ones. Murder, theft, smuggling and fraud are the most common elements of my cases.”

Julie didn’t look satisfied with this information.

“You can check out John’s blog when we get home. He summarises the most interesting cases there.”

“What was your favourite case?”

“There were many interesting puzzles throughout the years. Hard to choose one.”

A glance at his daughter told him that she still wasn’t happy. So he started telling her about a few of the cases he liked the most. Julie was hanging at his lips as they walked through London, pausing to rest on a bench in St. James’ Park.

Even though it was a nice day, the air was chilly and when Sherlock caught Julie shivering, he decided that it was time to head home. They made a quick stop at a supermarket, where they had their first argument.

  


Sherlock was pushing the card through the aisles and mostly picked convenience food when Julie, currently hanging over the shopping trolley and letting Sherlock drive her through the store, spoke up.

“You can’t only buy instant meals.”

“Why not?”

“I’m a child. I need vitamins. In fact, so do you. Is this the only food you eat?”

“Mrs Hudson usually does the cooking.”

Julie sighed and jumped off the trolley.  She grabbed the various instant meals and put them back on the shelf.

“Okay, we need a cooking book.”

“Julie, a few instant meals won’t kill you.”

“Yes, they will, sooner or later.”

Sherlock grumbled, but followed her through the store. After she found a few cooking books, they started discussing the meals, what Mrs Hudson would like etc. Sherlock was utterly bored with all of this while Julie seemed to have more fun than ever. After what felt like forever, their trolley was full of fresh vegetables, fruits, herbs and meat for the whole week. Finally, Sherlock pushed the trolley to the cash register, Julie walking in front of him. They passed the sweets section and Sherlock quickly threw some into the trolley…to his misfortune, his observant daughter noticed.

“No sweets!”

She reached into the trolley, but Sherlock pulled it backwards.

“Sherlock!” Julie put her hands on her hips and looked at him with furrowed brows.

“Put them back.”

“No.”

“Now!”

“No! I want Cadbury chocolate and Hula Hoops.”

“They’re not good for you.”  
“I don’t give a toss if they’re good for me. They taste good and I need them.”

“Need them? For what?”

“Stress relief.”

“You can do sports for stress relief.”

He furrowed his brows.

“What kind of a child are you?”

“Hey!”

“Shouldn’t you be the one begging for crisps, chocolate and coke and stuff?”

“Apparently, I have more self-control than you do.”

Sherlock straightened and held his head high. His lips were only a thin line when he put the sweets back, all the while glaring at her.

“I need cigarettes”, he announced as they moved on.

“Are you kidding me?”

“It’s either cigarettes or sweets!” Sherlock was almost yelling now.

“Fine!” Julie threw her arms in the air, stormed back into the sweets aisle, grabbed an armful of sweets and stormed back, throwing them into the trolley.

“Happy now?”

With a smug grin Sherlock walked to the cash register.

Julie huffed. “You are not a normal father.”

“And you’re not a normal child. No sweets! Tsk!”

Sherlock smiled at her over his shoulder. Julie couldn’t help but smile back. It was really hard to be mad with him when he smiled like that, she found out.

  


~oOo~

  


For the rest of the week, Sherlock and Julie kept a similar schedule: They would breakfast with Mrs Hudson, then Sherlock took her out to see his favourite places in London and some of the touristic stuff she insisted to see. In the evening, they would cook something from the cookbook. Sherlock did most of the cooking, but Julie was very eager to help.

They talked a lot during these four days and Sherlock laughed as much as he hadn’t done in years. Despite the fact that she was his daughter, he really liked her. She got excited easily and was just as curious and persistent as him, but she also enjoyed watching telly or spending some time chatting on the phone with her best friend in France or Jamie Watson. The mobile was her constant companion and she took pictures and short videos with it, texted or played a silly game when Sherlock was in his mind palace. Another thing she wanted to learn, and together they had started to build her own little mind room, which was her bedroom from home.

In short, their days were filled with activities and fun and Sherlock couldn’t even begin to miss his cases with this vibrant little person in his life.

  
On Friday, Julie received a text from her uncle that he would pick up both of them on Sunday morning to visit her grandparents.

“Did he say both of us?” Sherlock peaked over Julie’s shoulder to have a look at her mobile.

“Yup. Don’t you want to come?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She turned and looked at him. As she saw that he was nibbling on an Oreo, she gave him a meaningful look, which he ignored completely.

“That’s a busy schedule for one weekend”, Sherlock only said and turned around, not without letting Julie see his little smirk. Instantly, Julie was intrigued.

“Why? What’s happening tomorrow?”

She followed close on his heels, jumping into John’s old chair and crossing her legs. Sherlock sat down in his chair and opened the newspaper.

“Tell me!” Julie whined when he didn’t elaborate.

“Hm?”

He looked up from his newspaper, all confused. He loved to play this game. Julie hated and enjoyed it.

“Where are we going tomorrow?”

“Oh. Well, I thought you might want to visit the Royal Greenwich Observatory once you’re here. But we don’t have to if you’re…”

“Are you kidding me?!”

Julie had jumped out of the chair and crumbled the newspaper so she could see his face. Her huge blue eyes sparkled.

“We don’t have to. It was just an idea.”

“But it’s not used anymore.”

“Well, I pulled some strings and…ooff!”

With a squeal, Julie had jumped into his arms. Sherlock chuckled as she placed countless kisses on his cheek.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she exclaimed in between.

“Not a problem.”

Sherlock felt his heart swell as he saw how happy she was. And he had to admit that he liked her damp affections.

But just as Sherlock wanted to wrap his arms around her, she jumped up again.

“I have to clean my telescope! And we have to pack a picnic! Oh boy, this is going to be so much fun!! Woohooo!”

Julie ran up to her room and left a smiling Sherlock behind. He straightened his newspaper and continued to read, trying to fight down the love that was making him feel so warm inside. 


	7. Chapter 7

“Woooow!” Julie exclaimed overjoyed as they stood in front of the red brick building. “Look, look! The time ball! How late is it?”

“Two minutes to one.”

Julie clapped her hands.

“Perfect timing!”

“For what?” Sherlock asked innocently and Julie nudged him in the ribs. 

“You know.”

Sherlock grinned and Julie pulled at his arm, pushed back the sleeve of his coat and watched time tick away, shifting from side to side impatiently until it turned 1 p.m. and the time ball dropped. Julie squealed and Sherlock grinned. 

“This is so cool! Your watch is two seconds late, by the way.”

“No, it’s not”, Sherlock protested and extricated his arm from her grasp. 

Julie laughed.

“It’s okay. There’s a chronometer inside. Come!”

Sherlock was pulled by his sleeve into the observatory. As soon as they were inside, Julie never stopped talking. As it turned out, she knew everything about this place and knew her way around it due to some visual tours she had watched on the internet. She explained it all to her father and did so surprisingly well. At one point, Sherlock noticed that an elderly German couple actually had started following them, listening carefully to the twelve-year-old. 

There was a warm feeling spreading in Sherlock’s gut and he realized that he was very, very proud of her right now. 

Things got out of hand though when they finally left the building and the couple was about to follow them to the borrowed car to pick up Julie’s telescope. A few angry words were needed to make them get lost and Julie finally realized that she had been a free tour guide for the last few hours. Giggling and blushing, she waved at the retreating women.

It sent a sting right down to Sherlock’s stomach when he saw it. 

_So much like her mother…_

“Why didn’t you say anything? Was I talking too loud? How long have they been following us?” 

“For almost an hour”, said Sherlock, answering only the last question and vehemently pushing Julie’s mother out of his head. 

“Wow.”

“Indeed.”

The young girl let out a shy laugh and shrugged it off. Together with her father she went back to the rented car to get their things. They climbed up the hill and Julie chose the spot for their picnic by spreading the blanket on the grass. She let herself fall onto it and Sherlock joined her after putting down the big basket and the bag with her telescope. 

Father and daughter rarely spoke as they ate, were just enjoying the delicious sandwiches, tea and each other’s company. After they were done, Sherlock lay down on his back while Julie took some pictures of the Royal Greenwich Observatory and the sunset. He saw her text and smile and Sherlock clenched his jaw. 

Of course she would tell her. 

Sherlock sighed and stared up at the golden sky. 

She was like a ghost following them everywhere they went. No matter how hard he tried, he could never abandon her from his mind. Maybe it was an impossible task with Julie looking so much like her. 

Sherlock closed his eyes. 

  
  


She had been all alone. 

All these years. 

No one had been there when Julie had been born. She had raised her all by herself. The only help she had accepted was from Mycroft. 

It sickened him to think of that. His brother had been allowed to know about Julie’s existence. He had supported her financially so she would have everything she needed. 

At least this was a relief. To think that she had trouble to get food on the table…it was painful. 

Sherlock loathed himself for this pain. He shouldn’t feel like this. It had been twelve years. Mother of his child or not, he should be indifferent to her by now. He had spent almost a year tearing down her rooms in his mind palace and any real evidence of them being together. Every little sentimental thing, like the tickets to the first movie they had watched together or the napkin of the little chippy where they had shared their first fish & chips had been thrown out in disgust, just like every gift she had ever given him. Sherlock had tried everything to erase her mere existence out of his life and now she was omnipresent through their child. It made him furious. 

A part of him very much wanted to see her again so he could tell her all the bitter things he had been thinking about her. 

He wanted to hurt her just as she had hurt him. 

No one had ever been able to hurt him like she had. 

Sherlock’s eyes opened to the pink sky, the memory too intense with eyes closed. 

  
~oOo~

  
_Whistling through his front teeth, Sherlock jumped up the stairs. Even though he had fought it, he had to admit the case Lestrade and John had forced on to him turned out to be fascinating. He couldn’t wait to tell Molly about it, for he knew she appreciated the gory details like no other._

_Three steps into the living room. Then he froze._

_Emptiness. So much emptiness around him._

_His heart began beating like crazy._

_Her yellow mug with the smiley face. Gone._

_The picture of her parents on the mantelpiece. Gone._

_The quilt made by her grandmother which he loved to snuggle into. Gone._

_His eyes stared at his chair, lips parted, heart clenching._

_Gone._

_She’s gone._

_The thought echoed from the walls and something inside him shattered. Something precious. Something most dear to him._

_Tears welled up in his eyes._

_No._

_He didn’t want to believe the truth his logical mind told him._

_With weak legs he stumbled into the hallway, supporting himself against the walls, and smashed the door into the wall when he entered. His target was the closet. He ripped the doors open and the whole thing swayed. Sherlock didn’t notice. His shaking hands where pulling at drawers and sending clothes through the air._

_His clothes. Only his._

_Sherlock panted for air. He couldn’t breathe._

_While his mind continued to whisper cruel words of truth, Sherlock started running._

_Out of the room, down the stairs, out of the house, down the streets of London until he was finally at her flat, his lungs and legs burning like hell._

_But he didn’t care. He never cared much for his body and he wouldn’t start now when so much was at stake._

_He fought his way up to the stairs, forcing his struggling body to move forward down the hall and to the right._

_When he was at her door he flung his useless body against it, bruising his shoulder along the way._

_His body was in pain, the lack of air supply causing dizziness inside his head._

_But, God, the pain was nothing compared to the one he felt when he was standing in Molly’s bedroom, the bag on top of her bookshelf gone, drawers of her closet standing open, a pink blouse hanging out._

_With tear-filled eyes his mind retraced every step she had taken in this room right before she left so vividly he could almost see her._

_And when her ghost passed through his aching body, that one big bag in her hand, acceptance hit him like a brick._

_His eyes fell close, a tear escaped his lashes._

_She was gone._

_She had run away from him._

_Why?_

_Why?_

_What had he done wrong?_

_How could he hurt her so bad?_

_Why hadn’t she told him like she always did?_

_Why?_

_Why?_

_He didn’t understand._

_Why did she leave without a word?_

_Why had she stopped loving him?_

_Why?_

_Why?_

  
  


_For a very long time, Sherlock remained rooted to the spot at her bedroom door, thinking, begging for answers his head could not produce, the questions only circling around his head, left unanswered._

_The heart-wrenching pain burned his system and in the end, there was nothing but numbness._

_Defeated, Sherlock walked to the desk, looking at the mirror where she used to stick up her favorite pictures. His heart clenched painfully as he saw only five pictures hanging there now: The ones of them together._

_His lips had been trembling when he had reached out and took one of them in his hand to look at it. It had been taken at John and Mary’s New Year’s Eve party and they had been outside to watch the fireworks, him standing behind her and his arms tightly wrapped around her, their fingers intertwined and his chin resting on top of her hair._

_A moment of absolute happiness._

_A sob had erupted from his throat then and for the seventh time in his life, Sherlock had cried, the pain finally overwhelming him. With an outcry he trashed half her place before he left, the flat now looking like he felt inside._

  
  


~oOo~

  
  


Sherlock opened his eyes again to look at the darkening sky. His vision was blurred. Very annoyed with himself, he quickly blinked them away. It had been twelve years, for heaven’s sake. It’s just a memory now. He was over her. 

  
  


“I’m going to assemble the telescope now. Would you like to help me?” 

Julie’s face appeared above him and this beautiful smile helped him to chase the bad memories away. 

“It would be my pleasure.”

Sherlock rose and helped his daughter put together her telescope. He saw that she was used to doing it on her own, every movement of her hand was precise and fast, so the star gazing tool stood before them in no time. 

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Well…you held things for me”, Julie grinned and Sherlock let out a laugh. 

“So, what do you want to look at?”

“Um, definitely Venus”, Julie began as she walked to her rucksack and pulled out a black folder with neon stars on it – self-made – and took out a rotational map from the sky. Sherlock smiled as he watched her check her mobile for the time to set the map accordingly so it would display which planet was at which position in the sky. The sun had almost set, so Sherlock picked up one of the torches to help her see better. 

“Thanks”, she smiled up at him. 

A few more adjustments and Julie was satisfied. 

She held the round map out to him and asked what he’d like to see. All these dots and lines had no meaning to him. 

“You pick something.” 

He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he didn’t give a toss about astronomy. He had brushed up on the basics for tonight to not embarrass himself or to give away that he didn’t hold any interest in this field of science, but it wasn’t enough to enter a serious discussion about the solar system.

So Julie selected various planets, constellations and nebulas to look at and he smiled at her as he sat down next to her, wrapping a blanket around her. 

“We could share?” she suggested, but he pulled out his own. 

Sherlock saw something like disappointment flick over her face as she saw the second blanket, but she quickly averted her eyes. They sat in silence on the big blanket, the telescope in front of them, while they waited for the stars to rise. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but Sherlock sensed that Julie had something on her mind, something she might want to ask him. He confronted her with his deduction, but she didn’t reply. 

“Ah, here they come. Hello, moon!” Julie grinned and jumped up quickly, adjusting her telescope to take a look at the satellite. 

Sherlock watched her while he made his deduction. Julie wanted to ask him about his past. Personal questions. Most probably about her mother. Sherlock sighed inwardly. A few times he had thought she would ask him during the one week they had spent together; a wringing of her hands or a biting of the lip had hinted at this, but she had never actually asked him. Something told him that tonight might be the night. 

  
  


Sherlock couldn’t be angry about this, even though she knew he despised this topic. In a way, it was her past, too. She cared about her mother – and maybe him, too? – of course she’d want to know why they hadn’t been a family. Natural curiosity and the wish for closure were driving her, no doubt. 

Closure. Something that had been denied to him. Sherlock clenched his jaw. Don’t go there, he ordered himself. Focus on your lovely daughter. 

Even though he didn’t care about these things, his heart swelled with pride at how beautiful she was. The most beautiful thing he had ever seen. It was still hard to believe that he had a part in creating this beauty. But the traces of him were evident; although he found them vanishing the more he got to know her and he was hoping that the traces of her would vanish, too, and that in the end there would only be Julie. 

“Sherlock! Come, look at the moon. It’s beautiful.”

She waved him over, not looking up from the telescope until he was standing beside her. Just then did she take a step to the side and let him have a look. 

“See the big mare surrounded by four smaller maria? They look a bit like a person. That’s Mare Tranquilitatis. But my favorite is _Mare Serenitatis_ , _mer de la_ _Sérénité_ , uh, _Sea of Serenity_.”

“Why is it your favorite?” Sherlock inquired as he looked at the dark spot and therefore couldn’t see Julie shrug.

“I just like the sound of it. And it reminds me of the Greek Goddess of the moon, Selene. We learned about her in history. Myth says that she cast a spell on her mortal lover, Endymion, to fall in eternal slumber, because she couldn’t stand the thought of losing him to his mortal end. It’s so romantic.”

“To be forced to sleep forever and miss all of life’s adventures because of one woman?”

Sherlock straightened, finding Julie rooted to the spot. Her mind was racing. 

“No, he wanted it, too. He wanted to be young forever. And at night she would go to him, so they spent time together.”

“Highly illogical. As soon as he would wake from slumber, the aging process would continue and he’d age nonetheless. What?”

Julie looked at him with a frown.

“Why do you have to ruin this for me?”

“I didn’t. Did I?”

“Mythology is not about logic. It’s about legendary wars, heroes, Gods and love.”

“It’s silly romanticisation of historic events. If Homer had just written down what he knew about Atlantis instead of creating confusing and misleading tales, we might would know if it really existed or not.”

Suddenly, a smirk appeared on Julie’s lips. 

“You believe in Atlantis?”

“Of course not.”

“Yes, you do!”

Julie laughed. 

“I do not. When I was a silly boy around your age I did, but now I know that it’s nothing but the creation of an opium-dazed mind.”

“So, you believed in myths when you were a child?”

Sherlock cleared a throat. 

“Just some of them.”

Julie smiled. At least he thought so. The moon’s light wasn’t enough to be sure. 

“I wanted to sail to it in my pirate ship.”

Julie burst into another laugh.

“Pirate? You wanted to be a pirate? That’s so cute. Does Jamie know about this?”

“Of course. We played pirates often enough when she still was a sweet, _loyal_ girl.”

Sherlock Holmes would never forget the day when his goddaughter had betrayed him.

His mind was about to drift back to the fond memories he had playing ‘piwates’ with little Jamie when he became aware that Julie was very silent all of sudden.

“What’s wrong?”

Her flinch was visible in the darkness. 

“Nothing. Would you like to see Venus now?” 

She tried to go to the telescope, but Sherlock put a hand on her shoulder and turned her around. He turned on the torch and shone into her face. 

“Argh!” she exclaimed, shielding her wet eyes with her hand. “Merde! Turn that off!”

He did as he’d been told, but his hand remained on his daughters shoulder.

“Why are you crying?”

“I’m not”, she protested, but sniffed a second later. 

Sherlock’s heart clenched and a part of him wanted to scoop her up into his arms. But he hesitated, not knowing if his touch would be welcome or not. He had been a father for six days now, he was barely a beginner. 

“Did I upset you? It wasn’t my intention of diminishing you for your fondness of myths. I was merely stating facts. Sometimes I need to be reminded that these can hurt people.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” She sniffed again. “But it wasn’t that. It’s just…”, she hesitated and Sherlock squeezed her shoulder in encouragement, “…I would have loved to play pirates with you. To have you around when I was little…grow up with you…having a dad…”

Her voice broke.   
“Sometimes I’m so mad at Mum for stealing you from me and I feel so guilty for being angry with her. She’s a great mum. She is always there for me and it hurts to see that everyone hates her so much and I hate that I don’t know what happened, even though I’m not sure I would understand…I just want a family! I want you! I don’t want to go back to France without seeing you again! She wouldn’t do that, would she? No, of course not. But we will be separated by The Channel and that’s just not fair! I want to talk to you every day. I want to call you Dad! I want to show you my room and my school and I want you to meet all my friends! It’s so unfair that just because you two don’t get along I have to suffer! I hate this! Hate, hate, hate, hate this! You stupid grown-ups with your ridiculous problems! You’re ruining everything!”

She had talked herself into quite a state now, his daughter, shouting, punching the air with her balled fists and stomping with her foot. Her cracking voice implied that she was crying, but Sherlock only knew for sure when her wet cheeks soaked his shirt after he had pulled her into his arms. She cried bitterly then and he held onto her as tight as he could, his own feelings swirling inside him like a tornado, destroying every barrier of self control he had built. 

“Julie”, he uttered and sank to his knees, so she could wrap her small arms around him and cry into his shoulder. 

She was right, it was unfair that they had been robbed from each other, that Sherlock hadn’t been allowed to hold her after she was born, to rock her to sleep at night, to stay up at night when she had been crying from teething, to bring her a teddy bear when she had been sick, to listen to her stories after her first day at school, to play pirates with her…

A sob threatened to leave his throat, so Sherlock swallowed it down with all his might. His own tears at the stolen years spilled and ran down his cheeks as he held his sobbing daughter in his arms, feeling so much for this amazing little creature he barely knew. 

Oh, how much he loved her already!

“No one will take you away from me again, Julie! I swear I won’t let this happen. You’re my daughter. You belong with me.”

Her grip on him tightened and, acting on instinct, he started rocking her, letting a hand stroke over her head while he spoke soothingly. 

“We might have lost the first twelve years, but the years to come are ours. We can still play pirates, if you want.”

“Don’t you think I’m too old for that?”

He chuckled. 

“Not if you don’t feel too old for it.”

She shook her head. 

“Then first thing tomorrow, we’ll board the Buccaneer and sail off to Atlantis.”

She giggled and slowly relaxed in his arms. 

“We can’t set sail tomorrow. Mycroft is taking us to your parents.”

“Arrgghhh!” Sherlock gave his best pirate impression and caused a hearty laugh from Julie. 

Finally, she leaned back, wiping her tears away with her hands.

“I’m sorry I cried.”

Sherlock cupped her face with both his hands. Her head was so small in his big hands. 

“There is no need to apologize, Julie. I’m sad and angry, too.”

_Not good parenting, Sherlock_ , he suddenly heard Mary scold him inside his head. He inwardly rolled his eyes. 

“But don’t be mad at her. Things can’t be undone. And she undoubtedly had her reasons for leaving.”

“You never say her name. Neither of you”, Julie mumbled hesitantly. 

Sherlock’s heart beat a little faster as her name instantly echoed through her mind. He swallowed hard. 

“It’s just…it’s easier for me this way, Julie.”

“Are you still mad at her?”

“Yes”, Sherlock admitted after a moment, ignoring the look his inner Mary gave him. He would never lie to his daughter, he had sworn himself.

“For not telling you why?” 

Julie’s voice was only a whisper now. 

“I know why”, Sherlock replied as calmly as possible and stood up. All these emotions were wearing him out. 

“You wanted to show me Venus?” he said and hoped the topic would rest now. 

Even in the darkness he could see that Julie was still tense, wanted to say some more, but in the end she went back to the telescope to adjust it accordingly. 

  
  


An hour and a half of stargazing passed mostly in silence. They were sitting on their blanket, warming themselves by cuddling under one blanket now. Sherlock had wrapped it around her when she had been looking at the Crab Nebula and she had looked up from her telescope. Sherlock had hesitated only a second before he pulled her against his side. Julie had needed a moment as well before she snuggled up to him. The light of the moon had revealed her smile. 

Now they were more than comfortable. It was Sherlock’s turn to look at the Andromeda Galaxy and he had to admit, it was spectacular. All these possibilities. The universe turned out to be a mystery worth looking at, after all. 

A feeling of serenity befell him, his problems appearing so insignificant compared to the greatness that was enfolding in front of his eyes. 

“You know, I wouldn’t mind if you called me ‘Dad’.” He spoke before he could stop himself. His cheeks filled with heat and he scolded himself for his silliness. 

“Really?”

Julie’s voice was so hopeful. It made him happy. 

He turned to her and smiled.

“Yes.”

“Dad,” Julie whispered and hugged him, climbing into his lap. 

There they were, father and daughter, sitting on the hill in front of the Royal Greenwich Observatory, wrapped in a warm blanket, gazing at the big universe above them. 

It had been a night of emotional turmoil, but in the end, they left with a feeling of true happiness. 


	8. Chapter 8

A gentle knock on the door. 

Sherlock ignored it.

A not so gentle knock on the door. 

Sherlock grumbled and put the blanket over his head. 

Loud banging on the door. 

Sherlock wrapped the blanket tighter around his head to drown out the noise. 

The door squeaking. 

Footsteps. 

A gentle nudge on his shoulder. 

His shoulder being shaken. 

“Sherlock?”

Julie. Calling him Sherlock again. He emerged from his slumber. 

She shook him again.

“Get up, Sherlock. Mycroft texted me saying that we have to be ready in half an hour. He will pick us up.”

Mycroft. 

Sherlock grumbled again. 

Julie laughed. 

“Come on! You’re behaving like the child again. Get up, get up, get uuuup!”

She was shaking him with both hands now and Sherlock couldn’t help but grin under his blanket. Then Julie let out a frustrated noise and stomped out of the room. 

Feeling victorious, Sherlock snuggled into his pillow again and was already drifting back to sleep when he felt the blanket behind him being lifted. A second later, sirens blared in his ears and he jolted upright, his hair sticking out in all directions and lines from the sheets running across his face. 

Julie laughed, taking her mobile and turning the blasted sirens off. 

“Great, you’re up. Now out of bed and into the shower with you. I’m making breakfast.”

With the sweetest smile she left him. As soon as she had reached the kitchen, she turned on her favorite music and began making them breakfast. Sherlock wiped sleep out of the corners of his eyes and grudgingly got out of bed and into the shower, as he’d been told. 

  
  


Sherlock had just put the dishes in the sink when Julie’s mobile beeped. 

“Mycroft’s here”, Julie announced and ran to the living room window to wave at him through the window. Her father sighed inwardly. A whole day with his family. Oh boy. 

“Do you think they will like me?” Julie asked nervously as they descended the stairs.   
“They will love you”, Sherlock replied. 

“You don’t sound happy about this.”

“Well,” Sherlock said as he held open the door for her, “two more people I have to compete with for your affection. Don’t tell Mycroft.”

In the open doorway, Julie hugged her father. 

“There is no competition, Dad”, she replied shyly and looked up at him, her chin poking his belly. Sherlock smiled down at her, affectionately stroking her open hair. 

“Are you two coming? I don’t want to be late.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and Julie giggled, releasing Sherlock and hurrying over to Mycroft to give him a quick hug – which he let happen as gracefully as possible - before she climbed into the black Mercedes. 

“We’re going to our parents, not the German ambassador, Mycroft.”

“Get in the car”, Mycroft commanded and pointed at the open door and after another eye roll, so Sherlock did. 

On the drive to their parents’ house, Julie told Mycroft about their activities this week, sometimes drifting off to French without noticing. When she came to the visit to the Royal Greenwich Observatory, she grabbed Mycroft’s hand in excitement and Sherlock noticed how his brother’s fingers curled around her much smaller hand, holding it for the rest of the drive. 

“But I am talking and talking. Tell me about my grandparents, please!”

“My mother was a mathematician in her youth, but then decided to have children. My father was a lighting technician at a small theatre in London.”

“I bet they are really proud of both of you”, Julie smiled up at him and Sherlock observed how Mycroft’s features softened when he looked at his niece.

“So we’ve been told repeatedly.”

“Did they say anything about me?” Julie burst out next.

“I am not sure what you mean.”

“Are they looking forward to meeting me? Or are they mad?”

“Why would they be mad?”

“That they didn’t know about me. Everyone has been mad about it.”

The brothers exchanged a quick glance. 

“Yes, they were upset to not have been informed about your existence sooner”, Mycroft finally answered stiffly. 

“I hope you didn’t get grounded for not telling them.”

He looked at her with pure disbelief on his face. Then Julie grinned.

“That was a joke. I know they can’t ground you anymore.”

Mycroft was about to put on his mask again when Julie set one on top:  
“They couldn’t control it, anyway. You’re not living with them.”

Sherlock pressed his lips together as Mycroft looked nothing but dumbfounded. A second later, Julie giggled. 

“I’m kidding! Joking normally helps me to get over my nervousness, so I thought I’d try it on you to help.”

Her uncle frowned.

“I’m not nervous.”

“Yes, you are. But it’s okay. I’m nervous, too.”

She patted his hand and even dared to cuddle up against him before she looked out of the window, enjoying the English landscape. 

Sherlock watched Mycroft looking down at his niece and the spot where their arms touched. Then he looked at her small hand in his and for the first time ever, Sherlock wondered if Mycroft had wanted children at one point in his life and if he regretted his decision to spend it without any. 

  
  


When they finally reached the red painted house, Julie swallowed hard.

“Everything alright?” Sherlock asked as he held the car door open for her.

“Yes, it’s just…this reminds me a lot of my house. Our façade is white, though. With green and yellow windows and blinds. It’s Mum’s and my favorite colors combined.”

Sherlock could picture it easily, yet he blinked the image away as quickly as it had appeared. He found Julie’s eyes on him when he looked down.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” 

Smiling, he took her hand and pulled her out of the car and let her through the garden gate. He wasn’t surprised when the front door of his parents’ house opened and his mother stepped out of the house.

He felt Julie’s hand slip into his and squeezed it supportively as his parents walked out of the house to meet them halfway. His mother had her hands pressed on her mouth, trying very hard not to burst into tears. His father grinned like a mad man, his cheeks glowing. Sherlock inwardly sighed.

When they had reached them, none of them spoke for a second, his usually commanding mother choking on her tears. 

“Mummy, Dad, this is Julie Hooper, my daughter. Julie, these are my parents, Victoria and Charles Holmes”, Sherlock finally introduced them. His father stepped forward and held out his hand to Julie. 

“It’s the greatest pleasure to meet you, Julie. Call me Charlie.”

Julie smiled shyly, her cheeks pink, and took the offered hand. Victoria Holmes sobbed. 

“I’m so sorry. Just a second.”

She turned around and pulled out a handkerchief and Julie bit back a giggle when she blew into it. 

“A bit of a drama queen, she is”, Charlie joked, petting his granddaughter’s hand, his own eyes being wet. 

Victoria needed almost a minute before she got herself under control, her husband holding her while she sniffed. Julie looked at Sherlock and Mycroft, but they seemed utterly bored with the scene, as if they were used to their mother being in tears. 

Finally, the elderly woman faced her. 

“So sorry about this, dear Julie. I swore myself not to cry, but when I saw you…oh dear.” 

Tears were welling up again and Mycroft stepped forward, obviously having enough.

“Perhaps we should go inside so you can have a nice cup of herbal tea to soothe your nerves?”

“Don’t talk to me like I am a silly old lady, Mikey.”

“Then don’t behave like one.”

“Mikey?” Julie interrupted with a giggle, which was followed by a threatening look from the person in question.

Julie stuck out her tongue and sprinted to Sherlock’s side, placing her hand in his. 

Mycroft smiled a rare smile as he followed the rest of his family inside.

  
  


~oOo~

  
  


“Another brownie, dear?”  
“Oh no, thank you”, Julie answered her grandmother and rubbed her belly, “I’m full.”

“Great, maybe I can have one now?”

Julie frowned at the snap of her father. 

“Usually, Mummy bakes the brownies for him. He’s never been good at sharing”, Mycroft explained.

Sherlock shot him a glare, chewing the brownie he had inhaled. 

“I think he is very good at sharing. Yesterday he gave me three eyeballs and a thumb to experiment on.”

Mummy Holmes gasped. All eyes were on Sherlock in an instant. With his mouth full, Sherlock tried to speak; without success. The Holmes Clan was about to lunge at him when Julie giggled.

“I was kidding.”

The family relaxed.

“Dad is very good at hiding his experiments from me.”

Victoria and Charlie exchanged a look and a warm smile.  
“Not again, Vicky”, Charlie pleaded, seeing the tears in his wife’s eyes. 

“I can’t help it. It’s just. Our Sherly, a daddy.”

“Dear Lord”, Sherlock and Mycroft muttered. 

Vicky shook her head and wiped the escaping tears away. 

“Julie, you have to tell me everything about you.”  
“What would you like to know? I’ve become quite good at talking about myself these past few days. I realized that I never talked about myself this much. I mean, who does, right? We are all settled in our worlds and usually are surrounded by people who already know us. Like my friends and teachers at school. They all know me very well. I don’t even need to try to lie to Madame Marchand, she’s known me since year one and recognizes every fib by the twitch of the corners of my mouth. Apparently, I do that when I lie. Maguerite, my best friend, said it’s true. She can tell, too. This has been bothering me for ages. I really want to learn how to lie properly.”  
“I bet your father would be glad to help with that”, Mycroft jumped in.

“Or your uncle, who is the best liar in the world”, Sherlock shot back.

“You mustn’t lie, Julie”, Victoria chided her. 

“Oh, I only do it in emergencies, promise.”  
“And what would qualify as such?” Charlie asked. 

“Well, there was this one time I was late for school. Two hours late, to be exact. We totally overslept. Mum was working two jobs at the time and forgot to set the alarm – or didn’t hear it, I’m not sure anymore. I was seven or eight. Anyway, I came into class and this nasty teacher Mr. Dupont, - a total _gland_ , everyone thought so, thank goodness he was fired – started to shout at me and demanded a good explanation or he would send me to the principal. So I told him that someone had tried to mug us in the _métro_.”  
“Tried to?” Sherlock asked. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to say you have been mugged?”

“Easier, but less believable.”

“Why?”

“Because Mum was with me.”

Julie said it as if this would explain everything. Her father seemed to understand the reply, but the others were still looking at her confused. 

“She might be small, but she fights like a bull terrier.”

Charlie laughed. 

“How often did you see your mother fight?” Victoria asked, clearly concerned. 

“Only once. A man was about to get violent on his girlfriend in the supermarket and Mum jumped in between them.” 

“Oh my.”

Julie smiled proudly. “Yeah, she kicked him in the marbles. It was crystal!”

While Charlie laughed, Victoria shook her head and directed her attention to Mycroft. 

“Haven’t you made sure our grandchild grows up in a safe neighborhood?!” 

“There’s nowhere completely safe, Mummy.”

“It’s safe here!” she insisted angrily. 

“Your neighbours got robbed last month”, Mycroft replied coolly. 

“How do you know about that?” his mother replied, even though it sounded more like a complaint.

“I am the one who keeps this family safe…all of us.” 

There was a chill in the air and anger in Mycroft’s eyes. Obviously, this was a soft spot for him, Julie concluded. 

“I’m sorry”, Victoria finally said. “Obviously, you have done a very good job.” 

“Thank you”, Mycroft answered, still a bit hurt. 

“Now, Julie, tell me a bit more about France. I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“Oh, you absolutely should. It’s a beautiful country. Once, we were on holiday in Le Havre in the Normandy. It was absolutely wonderful…”

While Julie happily told her grandparents everything about her holiday in the Normandy – Mycroft interrupting her a few times to inform her that she had started speaking French again -, Sherlock’s thoughts drifted away from the conversation.

Julie had lied about the one time she saw her mother fight. She was right, she did give herself away by a twitch of her mouth when she lied. What had really happened? He had to know, even though he didn’t want to. There was no logical reason for it. It was over and they were safe. He didn’t need to know. And yet, the thought of Molly being in danger…it was a well familiar feeling; a tingling sensation in the back of his head. It’s been there for twelve years now…

  
  


The chance to ask her came in the evening when Julie stumbled out of the kitchen. 

“I really like your mum”, she said and plopped down next to him on the couch, “She shooed me out of the kitchen when I offered to help with the dishes. My mum always shoos me _into_ the kitchen.”

Sherlock chuckled and automatically wrapped his arm around her as she leaned over. Julie beamed up at him, the light from the fireplace dancing in her curly brown hair and her blue-green eyes. 

There was this pang again, this need to protect her at all costs and the fear of her being hurt, and Sherlock decided he couldn’t wait any longer.

“Tell me what really happened that day. There was no woman or an angry boyfriend, was there?”

“How do you know?” Julie asked with raised eyebrows.

“Your mouth.”

“Dang! You really have to teach me how to lie.”

Sherlock was momentarily distracted when Julie felt her mouth and moved her lips in all sorts of funny ways. 

“Julie.”

“Hm? Oh.”

She blushed and shifted.

“I don’t think I should talk about this.”  
He clenched his jaw. 

“Why not?”

“Because I think it would upset you.”

His heartbeat accelerated. 

“I need to know.”

“Why? It’s been years-“

“I need to”, Sherlock repeated shortly. 

Julie’s eyes were on him for a moment.

“Well, no, there wasn’t a boyfriend...Mum lost one of her jobs that morning and well, it didn’t end on friendly terms.”

“Did her employer get violent?” he asked slowly. His pulse was beating fast.

“What? No, of course not. He was just furious, I don’t even know what about. That man was really scary.”

Sherlock waited for more, but nothing came.

“What else?” he finally asked.

She looked at him.

“That’s it.”

He blinked. 

“He just...shouted at her?”

“Yes. It was really scary. He was a red faced giant and had this sort of screeching voice, it hurt my ears so badly.”

He watched her closely. No twitch in her lips. She told the truth.

“Why would you think this would upset any of us?”

Julie shrugged.

“I just didn’t want to tell you that mum lost a job. I know she was very embarrassed about it and I don’t want you to think that she didn’t take care of me. She still had the other job, which was better, anyway.”

A wave of relief washed over him. Horror scenarios had been swirling around inside his head; he was glad none of them were true. 

“I’m not thinking that. I know your mother did take perfect care of you.”

Julie nodded and smiled, cuddling up to her dad again. They spent one hour like this, just watching the fire, before Julie went to bed.


	9. Chapter 9

The door fell close behind her and Molly let out an exhausted sigh. Dropping her bag on the floor she entered the kitchen, making sure to look the other way when she passed Julie's room as she had done for the last three weeks. Then she dropped her thick winter jacket on the chair and rolled her neck, working the muscles with her hand next. It had been a long day.

The next thing on her list was to cook herself dinner. But first, she had to get the taste of that coffee out of her mouth. It was about time the cafeteria invested into a better coffee machine, Molly thought sourly while she reached for the box of gum on her shelf. Unfortunately, she knocked the box with the toothpicks next to it over. It rolled off the shelf and crashed to the floor. Molly winced. Loud. So loud.

She stared at the wooden toothpicks clattered all over the kitchen floor.

A knot formed in her stomach. Quickly, she took a cleansing breath and knelt down to pick up the toothpicks and put them back in the box. The sound of the tips landing on the plastic rang in her ear.

She tried so hard to just focus on this task, to not think.

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she continued.

_Clank, clank_ , did the toothpicks mock her, the sound ringing in her ears.

Her grip tightened, she pressed her lips together. She sniffed and tried to blink the tears away. She could do this, it was just bloody toothpicks.

_Clank, rattle, clank_.

_So loud._

_So silent._

Her hands stopped moving.

Her vision blurred.

A sob echoed through the flat.

_So loud._

_So silent._

_So empty._

Another sob fell from her lips and the box slipped through her fingers and fell to the floor. The sound it made rang in her ears and Molly curled up into a ball, wrapping her arms around her legs. Her eyes drifted to the white door with the yellow stars and her heart ached. Her child's name echoed from every corner of it while she cried and cried, like she hadn't done in years.

The pain was back, the pain she thought she had locked away back in that cheap hotel room in Paris, the night after Mycroft had left her. Now it was even worse. Now she felt the pain of missing her child, the person she loved most in this world. She couldn't handle this any longer! No matter what was about to come, she would face it, as long as she could be with Julie. For her, she would face the demons she had left in London, Molly thought trying to breathe, wiping the tears from her wet cheeks. She struggled to her feet and into the living room, grabbing the laptop.

“I'm coming, Julie”, Molly whispered breathlessly and flipped it open. Within five minutes a flight to London was booked.

Molly smiled, relieved. Tomorrow, she would be with her daughter again.

...and she would see _him_.

The smile on her lips faded away.

 

~oOo~

 

A phone started vibrating, startling the elderly woman at the table.

“Can't you just put a nice ring tone on that thing?” Victoria Holmes complained, shooting her son a dirty look.

“No”, Mycroft answered simply, checking the screen to find out the caller.

“It's your turn, Mycroft”, Julie said happily and nudged his shoulder.

“I'm afraid I have to answer that, dear. You continue without me.”

Ignoring Julie's protest Mycroft got up and left the kitchen, well aware that his brother's eyes were following him.

As soon as he stood outside of his parents' house, Mycroft answered the phone.

“When?”

“Tomorrow. Her flight leaves at two o'clock.”

“Sometimes I hate it when I'm right”, Mycroft sighed.

“First of all, no you don't, second of all, technically you weren't right. You said she'd come after two weeks. She had made it to three.”

“Yes, my fault. I thought she'd love her daughter more.”

“You know nothing about the love of a mother.”

“Neither do you”, he shot back, his arrogant eyebrow rising.

“And whose fault is that?”

The eyebrow fell back down and his jaw clenched.

“Make the arrangements and send a car to pick me up.”

“Already on its way.”

The call was ended and Mycroft suppressed a sigh.

“Even after fifteen years you still don't know how to talk to the woman you love.”

Mycroft looked up, into his brother's face. Only the light from inside the house illuminated the brothers. Mycroft rose to his full height and held his head high.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

Sherlock threw his coat and scarf at him.

“She's coming.”

It wasn't a question. After a quick glance through the window, making sure Julie was still inside, Mycroft turned around and walked away from the house.

“Indeed she is.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

They walked to the gate in silence, Sherlock needing some time to swallow the news.

“She couldn't even give me one month,” he finally said and Mycroft heard the bitterness in his little brother's voice.

“Most mothers don't handle separation from their child well.”

“This is not about Julie. She just doesn't want me to have her.”

Mycroft looked at the face of his brother. It was too dark here to read his expression but he did see the stiffness in his body. There was that numb pain in Mycroft's chest again. He'd learned to ignore it for most of the time by now. It's been there for twelve years, after all. You get used to these things.

“Who did you hire? Johnson? Whittle? Or did you finally bury the hatches with Erikson?”

“I'm afraid I'm at loss, brother dear. What exactly are you talking about?”

“Don't play daft, Mycroft, this is too serious. Just tell me the plan. I will help. Which lawyer did you hire to fight for custody?”

Mycroft paused.

“This is what you want? Full custody of Julie?”

“Yes.”

“Let me just clarify this: You want to rob Julie of her mother?”

Sherlock's hands balled into fists.

“I won't lose her, Mycroft. I will fight for her.”

“There will be no fight”, Mycroft said in his big-brother-voice which still had an effect on Sherlock.

“The second Julie found out that you existed she called me. She let her come here to meet you.”

“Yes. And now she realized her mistake and wants to steal her back.”

The numb pain in Mycroft's chest stung again.

“She only wants the best for her child.”

“If that was the case she wouldn't have taken her away from me.”

“Maybe that's exactly why.”

“What?”

Sherlock took a step closer to his brother, his voice an angry bark.

Mycroft didn't back down. He couldn't.

Suddenly, light blinded them and the brothers squeezed their eyes shut for a second.  
“What are you doing out here?”

Julie smiled at them.

“Is it a case? Can I come?”

“It's nothing. Go back inside, Julie.”

“Fine”, she agreed after a second, her lips formed into a pout. “But if you're not inside in five I'll come back.”

“Very well.”

“I'm watching you!” Julie warned, gesturing with two fingers to her eyes and then to her father and her uncle.

Sherlock chuckled and Mycroft nodded.

Silence fell between the brothers when it was dark again and both took a deep breath.

There was a question nagging at Mycroft and after another moment he gave into his curiosity.

“Why aren't you angry at me?”

He saw the outline of Sherlock's head turning to him.

“I _am_ angry at you. You had a part in this, a big part. How big exactly I will find out after you helped me keep my daughter.”

“Ah. You think you need me.”

“Yes. For once it will come in handy that you are the British government.”

“And after I secured that Julie will stay with you?”  
Sherlock came close.

“You'll see.”

With that he started to leave.

“How dramatic, brother dear.”

Sherlock kept walking. The door opened again.

“I will get you back what you've lost.”

Sherlock turned around. Their blue eyes met.

“For this, I need your full trust, Sherlock.”

Another pause.

“You will have to do without that, brother dear. All you have is my cooperation. And that has to be enough.”

When the door fell close behind Sherlock, the numb pain had spread in Mycroft's chest. He closed his eyes and wouldn't open them until the car arrived.

 

~oOo~

  
Giving the welcoming steward a quick smile, Molly stepped into the cabin of the Air France plane, checking her seat number once again. As soon as she reached her seat she quickly stored her handbag in the overhead compartment and sat down so other people could go through.  
Her heart was beating at an accelerated pace. It wouldn’t have been something to worry about since Molly wasn’t very keen on flying, had this acceleration not started this morning when she had woken up. Since then her heart apparently wanted to remind her constantly of where she was going and who was waiting for her at her destination.  
Mycroft, that was out of the question. She had not texted him she would come but he had been spying on her for the past 12 years so it seemed unlikely that he should stop now. Not even when Julie was with him.

_Julie._

A smile crossed Molly’s face. She couldn’t wait to see her, to hear all the glorious stories she had to tell to go with the pictures she had sent her from her phone. Gosh, she couldn’t wait to see her beautiful face and take her into her arms again. Never ever again would she let her go for such a long time!  
The smile on her face vanished.  
She would move back to London. She had known from the start, but now that the day had come, it was difficult. Molly had built herself a life in France. It wasn’t very glamorous, she hadn’t held as prestigious a position as she had back at Barts, but it had been hers. She liked her work place well enough and she loved their little house with the garden and that creaking old garden door.  


Molly sighed.  


In a way, it had been a dream. Just her and her daughter, leaving everything else behind. Rainy old London. Her tiny flat. The noises which disturbed her sleep…  
Him.

With a last, longing look at her dream country Molly leaned back in her seat. The sound of her beating heart drummed in her ears and she almost missed the announcement that they were about to take off.  
When the plane raced over the runway, Molly’s fingers clawed into the armrests and when it lifted off the ground, Molly felt like she was torn apart, everything good and happy staying on the ground, being left with nothing but worry and fear.  


Yes, she was afraid to see him again. Any of them, really. They would judge her, no doubt. Mary would give her an earful. John would say nothing but give her a look that said it all. Greg probably would ask her why. Mrs Hudson would take her on one of her guilt trips. As for Sherlock…he was the only unknown factor. She had no idea what he felt, what he thought of her now. It had been twelve years. He was probably over her for a long while. Maybe he had forgotten all about the woman who had left him without a goodbye or explanation. Maybe they would be able to just sit down and brainstorm the best way to make Julie happy without having to merge their lives too much. Molly was sure Sherlock would have no interest in seeing her more than necessary. What would be the point? All he wanted was Julie…as had she back then. Molly could hardly be hurt by that, she told herself sternly while the pain pinched her heart.

But what if Sherlock wasn’t at peace with the past? What if he was still hurt and wanted to get back at her? What if he would try to take Julie away from her?  


No, Molly reminded herself, that wouldn’t happen. She had already checked with a lawyer, paying him in cash so Mycroft wouldn’t find out. As long as Molly agreed to a share of custody everything would be fine. And she would. Maybe it was best to tell him as soon as they met, clarify from the beginning that she had no intention to taking Julie away from him. It was clear to her, otherwise why would she have let Julie come in the first place? But if Sherlock was indeed still angry with her, he might not see it that way. Better make sure. Julie would be in his life from now on and Molly wouldn’t want it any other way. Every child deserved to know both their parents if it wanted to and judging from the texts she received Julie already loved him. She even called him dad, which drove tears into Molly’s eyes whenever she thought of it.  


Sherlock was a daddy.  


Molly smiled as she looked out of the window, her vision blurred with tears. Despite her fears she couldn’t wait to see him with her, both of them together, united as father and daughter. She was curious on how he treated her, looked at her and behaved around her. She remembered vaguely how Sherlock had acted around that little boy from Mary’s wedding, which had been adorable. And he had been absolutely wonderful with new-born Jamie Watson.  


Another sting in her heart. The memory of Sherlock walking up and down with little Jamie in his arms, softly singing her to sleep with that love in his eyes haunted her like little others. It was the brutal reminder what a terrible, terrible thing she had done. And she could never undo it. Sherlock would never know the feeling of his own baby in his arms, this feeling of eternal love when you look down at your innocent little bundle, totally depending on your strength, protection and guidance. He would never know the countless nights of worry when your baby is crying and you don’t know what’s wrong. He would never know this marvellous pride when you finally found it out and see your baby sleeping peacefully.  
He would also never watch his child take its first steps and say her first word. He would never _be_ the first word…  


“Miss, are you okay?”  
  
Molly flinched. 

The man next to her, an older gentleman in a blue suit, white shirt and a red tie, looked at her with worry and a pinch of discomfort. Only now did Molly realize she was crying. She quickly apologized in French and pulled out a handkerchief, drying her tears and blowing her nose.

With another sigh she let her head fall back on the head rest and closed her eyes. Great. She hadn’t even reached the island and already was a mess. Lord knows what would happen when she was actually in London, surrounded by people who hated her. How on earth was she supposed to handle this kind of situation?

An inner voice reminded her that she had brought this on herself and it sounded a lot like Mycroft. But he was right. Her decisions had let her here. So the right thing to do was to face the results as bravely as possible. She would not be beaten by her fears. She would face Sherlock gracefully and calm. She would accept his anger, which she knew she deserved, but that didn’t mean she would give into everything he demanded of her.

Yes, she would come back to London and Julie would be able to see him as much as she wanted. But she would live with her. That point was not negotiable. Before anything else, Julie was _her_ daughter.

Molly nodded and balled her hands into fists. For the rest of the flight she went through every possible argument her head could come up with and reasoned with Sherlock as calmly and logically as possible. In the end, she won every argument, which made her feel a lot better, ignoring the fact that the Sherlock she had argued with was a figment of her mind.


	10. Chapter 10

Mycroft checked his pocket watch for the third time. How long could this woman possibly need to get her luggage? While he waited, his analyzing eyes scanned the area, amusing himself with reading the passers-by. Divorced, unhappily married, affair, one-night-stand on vacation with husband next door...and so forth. It was always the same story, just different people.

Ah, there she was. He had to admit, she was dressing better since she had become a mother. Chocolate brown boots combined with a matching, surprisingly tight suede pencil skirt and a white pea jacket with big black buttons. But, of course, it wouldn't be Molly Hooper if there wasn’t one item that ruined the French elegance of the outfit: A white beanie.

Fighting the urge to shake his head he straightened, just in time before she saw him.

No smile. Well, he didn't expect one. But she was coming towards him, dragging her yellow suitcase along.

“Doctor Hooper”, he greeted her formally.

“Mycroft.”

She just stood there and looked at him expectantly. No emotional outburst, no question in regard of her daughter. He had to admit he was disappointed.

“Do you have any more luggage?”

“No.”

“Very well then. If you want to follow me.”

He turned around and started walking. The tap of her boots signalled that she was following him.

Not until they were sitting in the car driving through London did they speak again.

“Where am I staying?”

“I took liberty of renting a place on the other side of Regent's park.”

“Nice.”

His eyebrow twitched and his eyes darted to her. She was still wearing the beanie...and still not complaining about his patronising behaviour. How irritating.

It was silent for a long while, Mycroft not realizing that he was in fact pouting.

“When will I see her?”

No demand. What was wrong with this woman?

“She is at the Holmes estate this weekend, so on Monday.”

“Good. I can settle in quietly, then.”

That's it. Mycroft had it with Molly's none-attitude.

“I have to say, for someone who flew here two weeks before the agreed time, you're not very eager to see your daughter.”

Molly raised an eyebrow at him. She. At him. This was wrong. Plain wrong.

“I'm sorry.”

He blinked.

“For what?”

“For disappointing you. I know you expected a scene from me, but it's not coming. I know I broke our agreement and I'm truly sorry about this. I'm not here to make things more difficult as they already are. I just want to be with Julie. I haven't been separated from her this long ever and...I’m not handling it well.”

The anger that had been rising inside him instantly vanished when he saw those damned, big hurting eyes of Doctor Hooper. And the worst thing was that he empathised with her, that he understood.

This little girl had gotten under his skin faster than he had thought possible.

“I see”, was all he managed to reply and it fell silent in the car for the rest of the drive.

 

The car stopped in front of a white two-story house with a black door. Very fancy, very clean. Mycroft let the key drop in her hand.

“Furnished, most definitely to your liking. Your flat is on the ground floor, although you're the only inhabitant at the moment.”  
“You did not throw some poor people out, did you?”

What a ridiculous question, he thought sourly.

“Indeed I did not.”

“I am to believe this is a happy coincidence?”

They exchanged looks.   
  
“You can believe whatever you want, Doctor Hooper, that doesn't change the truth.”

“Fine, have it your way, then.”

At least a little annoyance, he thought with some satisfaction.

Doctor Hooper had already had her hand at the door handle when she stopped, took a deep breath and turned around to face him once more.

“Look”, she started, her voice soft, “I have not come to make this difficult. I want Sherlock in her life. I want them to be together, I want him to be able to be the father I haven't allowed him to be.”

Her voice trembled and she paused, looking away for a second.

“I will discuss the details with Sherlock but I ensure you, I have no intention to rob her from him, or you, or the rest of your family. Julie will stay in your lives.”

A wave of relief washed over him, which surprised him. He hadn't been aware of how important it had been for him to hear her say this. Now he almost felt bad for what he had to do.

“With me,” he said coolly as ever, stopping her from opening the door.

“Sorry?”

“You will discuss the details with me.”

“Oh.”

Mycroft watched her think for a few seconds.

“Okay.”

“Okay?!”

Both looked shocked at this outburst. Quickly, he cleared his throat to cover up this short moment of lack of control.

“I think this could make things a lot easier. He'll probably be more reasonable if he doesn't see me.”

“Most certainly.”

With a nod of goodbye Molly climbed out of the car.

“I will text Julie Monday morning that I'm here. Please have a car ready for her.”  
Mycroft could only nod before she shut the door and went inside her temporary home.

He stared at the closed front door for a minute, sorting the data from the past hour.

Molly Hooper was willing to share custody of Julie. She clearly thought of her decision twelve years ago as a mistake. Most of all, she wanted Julie to be happy and she was fine with discussing the details of her future life with him instead with the father of her child. What Mycroft could not deduce was one thing: Did she or did she not still have feelings for Sherlock?

This was something he had to find out. Not because he wanted them together, of course. Mycroft was far from being a romantic and he certainly didn't care for such things, but it would doubtlessly have an effect on their future relationship and ultimately, on Julie. Going into negotiations, knowing Molly Hooper's heart was essential.

On his drive back to his parents Mycroft Holmes began scheming.

 

~oOo~

 

“Hello, Mikey!”

Mycroft suppressed an unnerved sigh. Ever since Julie had been at her grandparents’ house she insisted to call him that. Another thing he could add to the file of things his mother had done to him.  
The hug he received from his niece mellowed out the anger and he allowed himself to bend down and give her a peck on the cheek which always made her blush in such an adorable way.

“Will you stay for dinner? We’re making a casserole. I cut the onions, which was horrible. I’ll never do that again. Which reminds me, I wanted to order this thing mum has to cut them.”  
“Why don’t you do that now? There are things I have to tell your father.”  
Instantly, Julie’s eyes narrowed and, just like her father and her uncle, she scanned him from head to toe. Obviously, he was still able to hide things from her (she was surprisingly good at deductions for her age. Her father was training her well).  
“Am I in trouble?”  
“No.”  
“Is he in trouble?”  
“No.”  
“Are you in trouble?”  
“No.”  
“Is Britain in trouble?” She gasped. “Do you want him to go on a case?”  
“No. And even if I was, you weren’t to go with him, dear. Not even when you pout like this. Now hurry along and order the onion cutter.”  
Julie sighed dramatically.  
“Fine. You’re no fun today.”  
“He never is”, Sherlock commented when he stepped out of the kitchen and into the living room, one dish towel forgotten on his shoulders while he dried his hands with another.  
“Don’t be rude, dad. Mikey can be lots of fun.”  
It warmed Mycroft’s heart when Julie smiled up at him before she gave him another hug.  
“Don’t forget to set the timer on the oven!” she shouted as she sprinted up the stairs to her room.  
“Already done!” Sherlock shouted back.  
  
  
The brothers waited for her door to fall close, then Sherlock began the conversation.

“You didn’t tell me you were going to see her today.”  
“Why prolong the inevitable?”  
Sherlock nodded in agreement and plopped down in his chair. Mycroft took a seat in John’s old chair which Julie kind of had inherited.  
After a quick scan over his brother Mycroft pulled out a little note pad (which was unnecessary of course but he loved to put on a little show).  
  
“Julie will stay with you from the beginning of the summer holidays until new year’s and with her from then until the summer holidays. We agreed to alternate the holidays, meaning she will stay with you one Christmas and with her the next. The same goes for Easter and her birthday as well as yours and hers. She insisted that the family should be together on birthdays, don’t know why.”  
  
“Her father died on his birthday…She wasn’t there.”

Mycroft glanced up.

Sherlock was studying the pattern of the dishtowel. He had never realized he had some with floral embroidery. Mrs Hudson must have bought them. 

Those were the thoughts he focused on. Not on the thought of her telling him about her father’s death one night while he held her in his arms, breathing in the scent of her hair and feeling the beating of her heart against his chest.  
  
“Anyway”, Mycroft continued sounding bored, “she understands that you want to enjoy your time with Julie to the fullest so she promised to keep phone calls with Julie down to once a week.”

“Just like that?”  
Mycroft looked up again. Sherlock almost looked angry.  
“Dear brother, you know I can be very convincing.”  
“Not that convincing. How can she agree on talking to her daughter but once a week? I would never agree to this.”  
“I’m afraid you have, brother dear.”  
“What?!”  
Mycroft straightened in his seat when Sherlock gripped the armrest of his worn out leather chair.  
“You told me this was important to you. You ordered me to make it happen. And I did,” Mycroft explained coolly.  
“Not at the cost of the limitation of my phone calls!”  
“Well, this way it’s fair!”  
“I give a damn about fairness!” Sherlock shouted. A warning look from his brother reminded him that they weren’t alone.  
“You will renegotiate. I will not accept to talk to my daughter only once a week when she’s in France.”  
“Then, I’m afraid, she won’t either.”  
“I knew it. I knew she would do this”, Sherlock mumbled under his breath, jumping out of his chair and pacing the room.  
“She had her all to herself for twelve years, still she wants to cut my time with her.”  
Gritting his teeth Sherlock pushed the stack of unopened letters off his mantelpiece.  
  


“I suggest you calm down, Sherlock”, Mycroft said, “after all, you brought it up.”  
Sherlock whirled around and glared at his brother.  
“Because it is my right to have her to myself when she’s with me! I deserve this! She’s my daughter and when she stays with me she will not be bothered by her mother!”  
“Bothered?”  
Mycroft closed his eyes and Sherlock stiffened. Julie entered the room.  
“Why would I be bothered by my own mother calling me?”  
  


_Just wait till you get older_ did it shoot through Mycroft’s head.   
  


“What’s going on here? Have you talked to mum?”  
When Sherlock remained silent, Mycroft answered.  
“I have. We agreed that you stay half a year with your mother and half a year with your father.”  
Julie frowned, looking from her father to her uncle and back. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  
“Half a year? Are you serious?” she asked her father, who was looking at her with his jaw clenching.  
“Did you really think I’d be okay with not seeing either of you for whole six months? Because I’m not!”  
“Julie-“  
“No! This is ridiculous! Why did Mycroft talk to Mum and not you? I’m your daughter, not his! And I’m not okay with being sent back and forth from Paris to London like a package! I want one home, one family! Even if you’re not together I want my parents to be able to live in the same country! You’re grown-ups! Bloody act like it!”  
“Julie!”  
“NO!” she yelled, tears blurring her vision. “Did you even think about what I want?! What is best for me?!”  
  
  
As the first tear fell, Julie grabbed her phone and selected a contact. Sherlock took a step back and averted his eyes. His heart was pounding in his chest.

As soon as the call was answered, Julie began yelling at her mother in French, Sherlock not getting all of it for she was talking so fast, but it basically was the same she had yelled at him.   
Her face was all red by the time she came to an end.  
  
“…so come over here and handle this like an adult!”

With that she hung up, sniffing and stuffing her phone back into her pocket. 

“Julie”, Sherlock started, making a step in her direction. Seeing her cry felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. 

“Get me out of here”, she said to her uncle and took his hand.  
Mycroft stood up and was dragged into the hallway where Julie threw on her jacket and scarf, sniffing again and again.  
  
  
“Julie, I’m sorry”, Sherlock said when he joined them.

“Proof it. Make her move here. Or agree to move to Paris. Either way is fine with me.”  
Pulling her beanie down on her head she looked at him with her red eyes and her shaking bottom lip. Sherlock swallowed hard but nodded. Then Julie turned around and walked down the stairs.  
“She will be here in half an hour”, was the last thing she said before she rounded the corner and took the rest of the stairs down to the front door.  
“She really is your daughter, isn’t she?” Mycroft commented and earned a hissed ‘ _Shut up_ ’ from his brother.   
“Do you want me to stay here? I could call Anthea.”  
“No. Julie is right. I’m her father. It’s my responsibility.”  
“As you wish.”  
  


With a nod Mycroft followed Julie into the hallway and outside, opening the door to his black Mercedes for her.   
Once they were driving away from Baker Street, Julie stopped sniffing and wiped her face with her hands.  
“Well done”, Mycroft congratulated her and wasn’t surprised when she smiled at him.  
“Thank you.”  
“Does this work on your mother, too?”  
“It did this time. But not that often anymore. I think I’m losing my cute”, Julie joked.  
“Hardly.”  
  
Julie grinned and blushed. Mycroft’s dusty heart skipped a beat when his niece shifted until her side bumped into his arm and her hand curled into his. 

“Why did you agree to talk to Mum for him?”

“Because he is my brother.”  
She kept looking at him with those deep, honest and clever eyes.  
“It was my way to apologize”, he finally admitted just to make her stop looking at him like that.  
“For what?”  
Julie was so clever Mycroft sometimes forgot how young she was.  
“For not telling him about you when I should have.”  
“Oh…Why didn’t you?”  
Mycroft exhaled through his nose. “Because I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought he wasn’t ready to be a father.”  
“Wasn’t he?”  
  


Oh, those big eyes. They were his undoing.  
  


“I tried to convince myself for the past twelve years…but I’m not sure any more.”  
Mycroft turned his head to look out of the window. London passing by normally had a calming effect on him. Not this time.  
  
“It’s okay.”

Mycroft blinked. It had been quiet for a long while.  
When he looked at Julie, her hand gripped his tighter.  
“I’m not mad with you.”  
He frowned, his first impulse being to ask why she would be. Then there was this numb pain in his gut again.  
“Why not?” he inquired.

He didn’t understand. Not only had he stolen a daughter from a father, but a father from a daughter. She should be just as angry with him, if not angrier.   
“Because I can see you’re sorry. And it can’t be changed, anyway. Just promise me something.”  
“Anything”, he said; and meant it.  
“Help me to make them happy again.”  
“Julie, I know you want your parents to be together, but things aren’t always that simple.”  
“I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t really understand why they fear each other like that, but I know they’re sad. And I want them to be happy. Even if it’s not with one another.”  
His eyes roamed over this little angel face in front of him, truly marvelling at her insight and her kindness.  
A rare smile spread on his face and he held out his hand. “I promise.”  
Julie beamed at him and shook hands with him.

“So, where are we going?”  
“Fancy some cake and a milkshake?”  
“Always.”  
  


Uncle and niece shared a knowing smile. 


	11. Chapter 11

It was dead silent in 221b Baker Street, still it drowned in Sherlock ears. It was his heartbeat that annoyed him, a rapid tapping against his eardrum. With several deep breaths he tried to get his body under control.  
  
  
So she would be here in a few minutes. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been here before…

_  
Oh, what nonsense!_

  
  
He knew he wasn’t nervous about his flat being presentable or not. He had never given a damn about it and certainly wouldn’t start now. 

Sherlock knew what was bothering him and he would face it.  
In a few minutes, he would see the woman he had once loved, the woman who had left him without a word, taking his unborn child with her without even telling him that he was to become a father.  
These facts had been with him for the past twelve years (aside from Julie’s existence, of course), he had cried and screamed and raged about them a long time ago. The past couldn’t be changed and he didn’t want to. He had had a good life, with countless cases, always on the run, always deducing, always solving crimes, fighting the antagonists. He hadn’t missed anything. And most of all, he hadn’t missed her!  
  
Yes, she had broken his heart. But she hadn’t broken him. If anything, she had proven that Mycroft was right, after all. Caring is not an advantage. Romantic love was a disease. He had lived with this realization ever since. Molly Hooper had shaken his world once. He wouldn’t allow her to do so again.  
  
  
His hands balled into fists. That bloody heartbeat. Still loud and fast. Even after his internal monologue. Outrageous!  
He was in control of his body. He had willed it to stay alive six years ago when he had been buried for almost four hours before John had finally found him. He had been able to slow down his heart rate then, he could do it now when it was just her coming.  
  
Sherlock closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Blocking out everything else he focused solely on his heart, commanding it to beat slower. And slower.  
Images of big brown eyes filled his head.  
Faster again.  
Sherlock frowned and shook his head.  
_Out, out! Slowing down heart rate._   
The scent of honey scented body lotion lingered in his nose. The feeling of a warm, soft body pressed against his, hair tickling his neck, hot breath on his chest, seeping through his shirt, legs intertwined, a hand stroking up and down his back. _Warm. Comforting. Loved._   
  
Sherlock jumped with a gasp.  
Memories flooded his mind, so vibrant, so violent, so merciless. He remembered it all. Every detail of her face, every little mark on her petite body, the taste of her skin on his tongue.  
  
But he had deleted it, he thought desperately, pacing back and forth. He had deleted all these intense memories twelve years ago. How was that possible?! How could he still feel her skin beneath his finger tips, feel her soft tongue moving in his mouth? He didn’t want this! He had to make it stop!

Sherlock was gripping his hair when he heard the front door close. He froze and listened. Light footsteps on the stairs. _Her_ footsteps. He even remembered this. For a second he looked into the hallway, waiting for her face to appear. With every step his heart was beating faster. When she reached the top of the first stairs, he quickly turned to the window.

He wasn’t ready.

Not with these memories, not with this hated hurt and anger flashing inside him.

He had to analyze, had to shut it all out before he could…

The sound of her feet on the steps stopped.

She was here.

At Baker Street.

In his flat.

In his living room.

In his life.

 

While Sherlock was in a state of shock, Molly didn’t hold herself any better. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest and her hands were shaking. Tears were filling her eyes as they drank in the lean figure of her former lover.  
_Sherlock._

 _Sherlock._   
Her heart was beating his name, it seemed. And she couldn’t even blame it. For one beautiful, fleeting moment it felt like she had never left, like it was an ordinary Thursday and she was coming home from work, him standing by the window, waiting for her, or playing the violin, or sorting through his mind palace. It was like a picture frozen in time, a memory come to life. He still had this head of full black curls and was wearing tight black trousers and a white shirt.  
In this one moment nothing had changed. In this one moment, she had not made this horrible mistake…

But then she blinked.

The tears that had blurred her vision fell and the room and the man in front of her sharpened. She noticed how tidy the place was, that the couch had been replaced as well as the coffee table, the printers were missing, his desk was clean and sorted. A smile ghosted over her lips when she saw the old grey leather chair. She had known to find it here. Sherlock would never separate from it.  
Molly breathed in.  
No smell of chemicals. The scent of tobacco was still there, but it only lingered in the tapestry and carpet. No experiments. No smoking. She knew he would not endanger his daughter in any way.  
_Julie._   
Of course. That’s why she was here.  
Not to see him. Not to rip open old wounds. Not to hurt him again. She was here to co-operate.  
Still, she needed another moment before she trusted her voice enough to speak.

“Hello, Sherlock.”

 

A shiver ran down his spine when he heard her voice after so many years for the first time. It hadn’t changed at all, it was still clear and soft. Memories of her unique giggle echoed within him and for a moment he wanted nothing more than to hear it.  
But no more. He would not pine for her. He had not and he would not. Period. Not after everything she had done.  
Sherlock closed his eyes, focusing on the anger. He needed it now to remain cool and distant. He thought of Mycroft and his superiosity. He had mimicked it often enough. He could do it easily.  
“Hello, Molly”, Sherlock replied casually, opening his eyes and turning around.  
His heart skipped a beat and he swayed just a tiny bit.

So many clear memories of her face, still it didn’t compare to the original. Time had left little lines around her mouth and eyes. She had laughed a lot these past years. His jaw clenched.  
Her eyes were still bright and deep, also a little wet, he noticed.

Why would she cry?

Had she expected to see Julie and was disappointed she wasn’t here?  
She was dressing a lot better, he concluded as his eyes continued to roam. This jacket suited her and went well with the combined blue jeans and brown boots. It seemed as if France had helped her to develop a sense of style. About time, he’d say.  
Obviously becoming nervous under his scrutinizing gaze, Molly started wringing her hands and let them run through her hair.  
He could still feel the silken texture of it beneath his fingertips.  
“You cut your hair.”  
_Seriously?_   
After twelve years of being furious with that woman he didn’t do better than this?!  
_Obviously not._   
Of course she had cut her hair. It’s been twelve years, damn it! In twelve years she must have cut her hair about…well, he couldn’t do the math now with her staring at him like that.  
“Um, yes, I did. Julie loved to grab my hair as a baby. It was a lot easier this way.”  
“And you like to make things easy, don’t you?”  
A skip in his heart beat. A flicker of triumph when she guiltily averted her eyes.  
Sherlock certainly deserved this triumph; and her guilt. But when she opened her mouth, possibly to apologize for running off and stealing his child, Sherlock found himself interrupting her. He realized he didn’t want her apology. Not now. Not ever. It was too late for that.  
“Well then, Julie made it very clear what her terms were. Both parents in one country. What is your job situation?”  
Sherlock had his arms behind his back now, standing strong, looking down at her. There was an uncomfortable itch in his hands.  
“I work at a private lab in Paris.”  
“What’s your annual salary?”  
“About thirty-thousand Euros. Why?”  
“To compare salaries, of course. Isn’t that what parents do? Choose the job with the better pay? Since I have no fixed income, Paris is the logical choice. Furthermore, Julie’s friends and classmates are there.”  
“What about your friends and family? What about John? And your parents?”  
“They certainly will understand that I want to spend my life with my daughter.”  
Once again, Molly looked down, fumbling with a button on her jacket. It made him feel good and at the same time it angered him that she just stood there.  
“Great, since this is settled”, he continued in a loud voice, clapping his hands and walking over to the mantelpiece, “next point on the agenda: Flat situation.”  
“We’re moving here”, Molly interrupted him.  
“Pardon?”  
“We are moving to London, Sherlock.”  
They looked at each other for a brief moment.  
“You don’t have to give up everything for me-“  
“For Julie”, he interrupted her, his voice cold as ice.  
“Of course”, she replied, looking at him with those damned brown eyes.  
Molly took a deep breath.  
“We will come to London. It makes more sense. Her grandparents and her uncle are here and you’re as much a part of London as London is of you…Julie likes it here. I’m sure she will be happy.”  
Sherlock exhaled. This woman was infuriating.  
“You won’t let me sacrifice anything for her, will you?” he hissed.  
Molly was taken aback.  
“What? No, that’s not…you don’t have to move, Sherlock. You’ll be much happier here.”  
“I don’t care! I want to do what’s best for my daughter, not me! I won’t turn her life upside down again by making her move here so that I am more comfortable!”  
He was yelling now. Funny thing about Molly Hooper: When she was being yelled at, she grew a few inches; and she turned confident.  
“It will be easier for her not be parted from her family.”  
“Since when do you care about that?!”  
Molly winced and Sherlock, realizing he was standing too close to her, turned and walked back to the window, pressed his hands against the frame and took a deep breath.  
“Sherlock, I know you’re angry-“, Molly started.  
“Of course I am”, Sherlock interrupted her in a low voice before he straightened. “But that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Julie is in my life now. I won’t let you take her away from me this time.”  
“I don’t want to take her away from you.”  
“Surely you will understand that I don’t believe you.”  
He gave her his best fake smile.  
“Why would I take her away? As soon as she found out about you I sent her to you.”  
“But what if she hadn’t found that picture? Would you have told her that she has a father?”  
Molly’s cheeks and neck were flushed. Obviously that sill happened when she was upset.  
“Yes, I would have. A few years later, when she would have been old enough to understand-”  
“Understand that her mother left her father without so much as a goodbye, not to mention not telling him that he was to become a father? When do you think someone is old enough to understand this? For I am still unable to do so and I am past 40.”  
Molly sniffed and quickly wiped a traitorous tear from her cheek.  
Although it’s been years, although he was furious with her, seeing her cry was unbearable. It hurt. His heart was aching and screaming at him to go to her, to comfort her, to hold her like he had done so many, many times.

But he did not.

He turned his back to her and put his hands in his pockets, looking out of the window up to the cloudy sky.  
“I’m sorry-“  
“Don’t”, he interrupted her, his voice now calm and without emotion. “It doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve made your choice a long time ago. I accepted it a long time ago. We have moved on. All that matters is to give Julie a happy home. Let her decide where she wants to live.”  
“She is twelve, Sherlock. She can’t make such a choice.”  
Every time she spoke his name his heart was aching. He hadn’t felt so much in a long time. He had forgotten how exhausting it was.  
“Do you think she will be happier here than in France?” he asked her, his eyes roaming the rooftops on the opposite side of the street.  
“Yes, I do.”  
“Fine, then. You know her better than me.”  
He saw her reflection wince in the window.  
“I was merely stating a fact, Molly. If you want your daughter to be happy you better accept these facts. We will see each other often from now on.”  
“I know.”  
Her voice was a sad whisper.  
It hurt that she wasn’t happy to see him, he couldn’t deny it. A tiny part of him had wanted her to come begging. After all, he had always been proud and his pride got hurt as well as his feelings when she left him.  
“Let’s not make things complicated. We have a child together and…and I will always honor you as Julie’s mother. Regardless of the circumstances, I am grateful that she is in my life.”  
That might have been the most grown-up thing he had ever said, Sherlock thought for a second. It was a shame John wasn’t present. He wouldn’t have been able to pick up his jaw for a week, for sure.  
“You’ve changed”, he heard her say behind him and when he glanced over his shoulder, she gave him a shy smile.  
“It’s been twelve years. It happens.”  
She nodded and gnawed at her bottom lip like she had so many times at the lab or lying on his old couch, lost in a book.  
A rush of desire jolted through his body and he gulped.  
_This_ was something he definitely didn’t want to feel!  
“You better go wash your face before we continue. I don’t know how long Julie will be gone.”  
“Okay.”

When she was gone, Sherlock sat down on the couch and put his head in his hands. He needed to close his eyes for a moment. He was so damned tired. How could he have forgotten how tiresome it was to be a responsible adult?  
If he hadn’t let himself fall for his pathologist he wouldn’t have to have this soul-sucking conversation now.  
  
  
He also wouldn’t have Julie.

  
Sherlock sighed and brushed his fingers through his curls. 

  
It was all for her. For her, he would pull through and come to an arrangement that would be best for her. For Julie, he would let his grudge go. From now on, he would only look into the future. 

  
With new energy Sherlock got up and put the kettle on. Tea would give them something to focus on instead of each other. He’d rather look into his cup than her face. Her brown eyes always sparked his emotions and he needed a clear head now.

  
~oOo~

  
While the atmosphere in 221b Baker Street was cool and distant, the atmosphere in the little café Mycroft and Julie were sitting was warm and comfortable. 

Their milkshakes had just arrived and Julie sucked on her straw, watching Mycroft pulling it out of the high glass and drink his strawberry milkshake with direct mouth-to-glass-contact.  
“Why don’t you drink from the straw?” she asked.  
“Because I am an adult.”  
“Other adults are drinking from a straw. There is one, there’s two over there and there-“  
“Yes, I get it.”  
“Don’t you like straws?”  
“No.”  
“Not even as a child?”  
“No.”  
“Not even the cool swirly ones?”  
Mycroft sighed.  
“Could we please talk about something else?”  
“Okay. Do you think mum and dad will get along?”  
“Of course they will. They both want what’s best for you.”  
“Do you think they will move to Paris?”  
“It’s a possibility.”  
Julie took another gulp of her chocolate chip milk shake and looked out of the window, watching London.  
“I like it here.”  
“Would you prefer living here?”  
Julie shrugged, working her straw through the milkshake.  
“I would like to be with you, Granny and Grandpa. I never had such a big family before. It’s nice. I also like the Watsons. But I would miss Maggie and Etienne and Ricki. And I would totally miss my skylight. London is so bright at night I can hardly see any stars.”  
“Well, you could visit your friends during the holidays and regarding your passion for astronomy I am certain we could come to a solution. If necessary, we build one into your new flat.”  
Julie grinned.  
Mycroft lifted an eyebrow.  
“Did I say something to amuse you?”  
“You want me to stay, don’t you?”  
He straightened and looked down his nose.  
“You’re my niece.”  
“That’s not an answer”, Julie pointed out cleverly.  
“It is. You are family and I like having my family around.”  
“Awww”, Julie mocked him and he narrowed his eyes at her.  
“Drink your milkshake”, he ordered.  
For almost four minutes, it was comfortably silent. Then Julie’s eyes fixed on him and he knew there was going to be more.  
“Will you marry Anthea?”  
If it had been anybody else, he would have spurted his milkshake across the table. Mycroft only reacted with widening his eyes.  
“Why would I?”  
“Because you love her. Some people get married when they love each other.”  
She shrugged.  
Mycroft blinked.  
“Have you talked to Sherlock about this?”  
“No.”  
“With mummy?”  
“No.”  
“Then who on earth put the idea inside your little head that I am in love with my secretary?”  
“You.”  
Now both his eyebrows went up his forehead.  
“How?”  
He truly didn’t know how he could have given anything away.  
“The way you look at her. And talk to her. _And_ you hold her hand when you’re upset.”  
“I certainly do not”, he protested with as much offense as he could master.  
“You did on the plane when you thought I wasn’t looking.”  
He opened his mouth, then closed it.  
He had been busted.  
Now, damage control.  
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”  
She had taken the words right out of his mouth.  
“Thank you”, he said and folded his legs, “I trust you to keep this secret.”  
“I am very good at keeping secrets.”  
Mycroft smiled a little smile.  
“But will you marry her?”  
Mycroft reached for his milkshake.  
“I can’t.”  
“Why not?” Julie asked, looking disappointed.  
Children. Always wanting a fairy tale happy ending for their loved ones.  
Mycroft took his time with his reply, lazily took another sip from his milkshake.  
Then he put the glass down and leaned forward, an uncharacteristic smirk on his face.  
“Because I already have.”  
Julie gasped.  
“What?!”  
He chuckled.  
“But you’re not wearing a ring on your finger.”  
“Don’t I?”  
He lifted his right hand. Julie gasped again.  
“I-I don’t understand.”  
“Anthea is Austrian. In Austria you wear the wedding band on your right hand.”  
Julie blinked. Mycroft could see her brain process.  
“Oh, that’s so clever!” Julie exclaimed.  
“I didn’t know Anthea is Austrian.”  
“Officially, she isn’t. Her papers have been faked to protect her family. Also, she has trained hard to get rid of her strong accent.”  
“Do you like my accent?”  
“Yes. It’s charming.”  
Julie smiled happily. Then she shook her head.  
“You’re very clever, Mikey, I must say. Hiding your marriage in plain sight is brilliant.”  
“I know. And thank you. You are very clever for your age, as well.”  
She blushed and thanked him with a charming smile.  
For a moment he thought this would be all regarding the topic of his marital status. But she was half a Holmes, he should have known better.  
“There is one thing I don’t understand.”  
“And what could this be?”  
“Why are you hiding your marriage?”  
“As you know I work for the government. Someone as close to me as a wife could be in great danger.”  
“Really? What is your work, anyway?”  
“That, my dear, is one of the best kept secrets in all of Britain.”  
Julie’s eyes were as big as saucers and Mycroft couldn’t help but feel proud. He liked impressing her. His niece went back to thinking and he enjoyed the blissful silence.  
They finished their milkshakes and went outside.  
Mycroft’s heart swelled when she reached for his hand while she held her phone in the other.  
“An hour and a half. Do you think they’re done?”  
“When it comes to your parents I find it hard to estimate anything. Together they become unpredictable.”  
“You really hate that, don’t you?”  
“Indeed.”  
Julie giggled.  
“Would you like to go for a stroll? Or do you have to get back to work?”  
He checked his pocket watch.  
“I think I can spare another hour.”  
“Great. Can we go to that park over there?”  
He nodded and together they walked across the street into the park, where Julie continued to ask questions about his marriage.  
“Isn’t Anthea sad that she can’t be your wife in public?”  
“At first she was. But then she understood it is dangerous to be my wife and agreed to go into hiding.”  
“What do you mean?”  
Mycroft looked at Julie’s curious eyes and sighed. He really was spilling all his secrets today, wasn’t he?  
“In the second month of our marriage she was kidnapped.”  
“Mon dieu!” Julie exclaimed and grabbed his hand tighter, looking seriously shocked.  
“Only for a few hours”, Mycroft tried to calm her.  
“Was she hurt? Did you save her?” did it burst out of the girl in French.  
Since the first night Julie had spent in London, Mycroft finally had overcome his animosity and had learnt the language.  
“No major injuries. And yes, I did.”  
“Oh, did she swoon?”  
Julie jumped and tugged at his hand. The typical eyebrow took off.  
“And all of a sudden the worry is gone.”  
“Did you punish her captors? Did you tear down a door to get to her? Did you kiss her and carried her out of her dungeon?”  
Mycroft sighed.  
“One more mind polluted with romance”, he muttered under his breath as the downpour of questions continued.  
It ended with “I had no idea my uncle was a hero.”  
He had to laugh at that.  
“Believe me, I’m not. And it’s not healthy to glorify your father, either. The disappointment will hurt, dear one. Always look at people with open eyes.”  
“Did you just insult my dad?”  
“I was giving you words of wisdom. I advise you take them to heart.”  
“Thanks, but I like to see the good in people. I believe in my dad and I believe in you. You’re good men and I love you both.”  
Mycroft looked at her. Unconditional love always had been a strange concept to him. Now, for the first time ever, he thought it was...merciful. Mycroft knew he wasn’t a good man. Neither was he a very good husband. But as well as Anthea, this little girl believed him to be and in a strange way it was a comfort.  
  


Bah, feelings. He’d never be a fan.  
  


~oOo~

  
“I think that’s it, then”, Molly said, sitting on the couch, storing her little pink notebook in the inside pocket of her jacket. She glanced at Sherlock, who was sitting at his desk, typing their agreement into his laptop.  
“Yes”, he confirmed, his eyes glued to the screen.  
He had hardly looked at her while they had been discussing their future, only when she was not agreeing to his terms did he try to use his glare to make her back down.  
“I will text Julie to come back, then. I can’t wait to see her.”  
Sherlock allowed himself to glance at her when she fired off the text. When she smiled, his heart skipped a beat and he quickly turned his attention back to the screen, saving his file.  
“They’re already on their way.”  
“Good.”  
  
Molly chewed on her lip. She would love to ask what he thought of her, how the past three weeks have been for him, but she didn’t dare. They had argued enough for today and she didn’t want to upset him more; neither did she want to give him another opportunity to hurt her. The past hour had been exhausting enough as it was. All she wanted was to get back to her admittedly fabulous flat and take a long hot bath – and maybe cry a little. She definitely felt like crying.  
So Sherlock and Molly spent the rest of their time alone in awkward silence, neither moving, neither looking at each other.  
  
The sound of the front door finally broke the freezing spell and Molly jumped up, her heart beating fast. A joy filled her heart that only your own child could create and when Julie entered the living room, all the heartache – and the man who created it - was forgotten for a moment.  
“Julie!” Molly exclaimed happily and wanted to rush over to her, but the girl held up her hand and stopped her mother.  
“Where are we going to live?” she asked in French.  
“London”, her mother replied nervously.  
  
Now Julie smiled and rushed over to her mother to throw herself into her arms.  
Reunited mother and daughter laughed, hugged and kissed each other.  
Julie excitedly told her about the past week, switching from French to English and back again without noticing, Molly doing the same as she replied.  
Mycroft, who had entered the living room behind Julie, watched their reunion for only a second. It was much more interesting to watch Sherlock, whose face was a mask made of marble and topaz. His eyes were fixed on Julie and Molly and only the stiffness in his back and shoulders gave away how he felt. His big brother knew him well enough to read him like a book, no matter what face he put on to protect himself.  
He was stressed and angry, which was a given, but Mycroft also saw the sadness in his eyes. Seeing mother and daughter together must be hard on him, certainly feeling left out. And in a way he was. Molly’s bond with her daughter was twelve years stronger than his. It seemed that Sherlock didn’t know that time wasn’t the only material needed to weave such a bond.  
But he would learn, Mycroft thought, and Julie would help him. She had already opened up his heart again and maybe with time, Sherlock would be able to forgive Molly and him for what they had done. In a best case scenario, Sherlock would even understand that his intentions had been good when he had kept Molly’s pregnancy from him. But the chances of that were only about 7%, by his estimation. Sherlock was even more unforgiving now than he had been. Getting his heart broken had changed him – how could it have not? He had always been so emotional. Another area where Mycroft had failed. He would never say this out loud, but maybe he had been wrong in trying to force his own beliefs on him. Maybe, if he could have accepted the fact that he really was unique in this world, they would have gotten along better.

“Come, you have to see my room! Dad bought me a holoposter of Big Ben et le tour d’Eiffel so I can have both countries in my room. He’s clever like that.”  
Mycroft nodded to Molly when she was dragged past him and up the stairs to Julie’s room. She answered with the same gesture.

“You two seem to get along”, came Sherlock’s icy comment as soon as the door upstairs fell close.  
“I greeted her, Sherlock. It’s called being polite. You should try it some time.”  
When Sherlock didn’t retort, Mycroft talked business.  
“Did you come to an agreement?”  
After a moment of hesitation Sherlock turned his laptop so that Mycroft could read the file.  
“Sounds reasonable. I’m surprised you didn’t insist on changing Julie’s last name into Holmes after you adopted her.”  
“She’s my daughter regardless of her last name.”  
“Of course”, Mycroft hurried to agree, feeling the anger burn beneath his brother’s cool attire.

  
“Good thing you're making her British. Couldn't stand a French person in our family.”  
“You're the reason that she is.”  
Mycroft wanted to point out that he wasn't the one who fled to Paris, but he chose not to. It was a fragile peace between them and with Julie in the same house he didn't want to risk ruining it. So instead of congratulating him that he had accepted Julie continuing to live with her mother, he straightened and went to sit down in Julie's chair.  
Muffled voices and bright laughter were heard upstairs. Out of the corners of his eyes, as he pretended to read e-mails on his phone, Mycroft noticed how Sherlock got more and more anxious and his eyes fixed on the stairs more than once.  
When the girls finally came back, Sherlock visibly relaxed.  
They were chatting in French, Julie leading Molly through the flat, explaining some of the items and antiques of her father. Instead of telling her that she knew most of it, Molly just smiled and listened to her, her hand tenderly stroking her head.  
Sherlock watched them closely. His eyes couldn't stay away from Molly's face; it was as expressive as ever. He could see the love and adoration she felt for Julie and how happy she was that she was finally with her again.  
“Will you stay here tonight?”  
He blinked. His heart reacted to Julie's question with accelerating its rhythm.

He and Molly, under the same roof.  
Sherlock jolted out of his chair. Molly's eyes darted over to him. Then she smiled and stroke her daughter's head once more.  
“Why don't you stay with your dad tonight? I have to make a few arrangements, anyway. Book our flights home, start the search for a place and a job.”  
“You can do that from here. Dad has seven laptops, I am sure he can spare one for you to use. Can't you, dad?”  
Sherlock's jaw clenched.  
“Of course. You can sleep on the couch.”  
“Or in my bed! You know, like we did when we were on holiday.”  
Molly smiled, then she looked up at Sherlock.  
“Is that okay for you?”  
What was he to say to that? That the mere thought of sleeping under one roof with her was upsetting? As if he would ever admit this, especially in front of his daughter.  
“Of course”, he responded instead.  
Molly gave him an apologetic look and nodded. Julie clapped her hands and jumped.  
“Crystal! A slumber party with my parents! You have to come, too, Mycroft.”  
The older Holmes brother winced.  
“I never have and never will participate in a slumber party.”  
“Oh, come on.”  
“No. And this is my last word on the matter. Would you like me to take you to your flat, Doctor Hooper? I assume you have to fetch some things for the night.”  
“Oh, yes, of course. Thank you.”  
A hug and a few words were exchanged, then Mycroft and Molly left.  
Julie went to her father and hugged him.  
“Thank you, dad.”  
“For what?” he replied and hugged her back.  
“For letting her stay here. I know it's not easy for you.”  
“I am fine, Julie. She's your mother and you want to be with her. I understand.”  
“You _are_ as smart as they say.”  
She grinned at him and he found himself smiling a second later.  
“Don't tease your father”, he chided her.  
“Let's change the sheets on your bed.”  
“Okay.”  
Father and daughter went to work, changing the sheets on Julie's bed and tiding the flat a little. Then Sherlock went down to check on his landlady, who immediately forced him to tell her everything that happened, having recognized Molly's voice through the ceiling. Her hips might be ruined, but the elderly lady’s powers of hearing were perfect. Too perfect for Sherlock's taste.  
“I can't believe she is going to stay the night. Doesn't she have no mercy on you?”  
“Julie left her no choice. I'd rather have her stay here than Julie being at her mother's for the night.”  
Mrs Hudson nodded in agreement.  
“Has she at least apologized?”  
“No.”  
“Wha-”  
“I didn't let her,” Sherlock interjected before she could explode.  
“Why? It's the least you deserve.”  
“I don't care for her apology.”  
Mrs Hudson looked at him while he adjusted her pillow.  
“Comfortable?”  
She nodded. When he wanted to straighten, she grabbed his hand and smiled at him.  
“I'm proud of you.”  
Sherlock blinked.  
“What for?”  
“For the way you are handling this. Letting the past go is the right thing to do. You should focus all your attention and heart on Julie. Don't let the bitterness get in the way.”  
“I'm not bitter”, Sherlock protested and snaked his hand out of Mrs Hudson's grasp.  
“I'm sorry, of course you're not.”  
“Do you need anything else? I'll bring you dinner in an hour.”  
“No, I'm fine.”  
Sherlock nodded and left, Mrs Hudson's sympathetic eyes poking him in the back.

  
~oOo~

  
The evening was as awkward as both had feared. As soon as she arrived, Sherlock felt uncomfortable in his own flat, his sanctuary. He hated it. Still, he put on a good face for Julie. He even let her help cook dinner.  
While Sherlock was stirring the soup, Julie and Molly sat at the table and sliced the vegetables, Julie telling her the onion story.  
When Molly giggled, Sherlock closed his eyes at the pain that shot through his heart.  
It still was the most endearing sound he had ever heard.  
“Anyway, I immediately ordered the machine we have”, Julie concluded her tale.  
“In yellow?”  
“No, dad's favourite colour is purple.”  
“Yes, it is.”  
Ah, the gentleness of her tone. It was unwelcome.  
Sherlock tried to block out their voices after that. For a while it worked, but he found himself listening again when Julie reported in detail about their day at the Royal Greenwich Observatory. She still sounded so excited about it that it warmed his heart.

 

When dinner was finally ready, Sherlock prepared a tray for Mrs Hudson.  
“You should come and say hello, mum.”  
“I don't think that's a good idea. I don't want to upset her. She's still recovering and all.”  
“She's fine. I really think you should say hello. It would be impolite not to, wouldn't it?”  
Molly sighed. She had raised her daughter well.  
“Okay.”  
Oh, as if it wasn't stressful enough! Now she would have to endure the judging look of Sherlock's landlady. Well, she did deserve it, didn't she?  
And she was right, as soon as she entered Mrs Hudson's living room, in which nothing had changed which was kind of creepy, her blue eyes fixed on her.  
“Hello, Mrs Hudson. How are you doing?”  
She looked her up and down before she answered.  
“I'm fine, thank you. How are you, Molly?”  
“Fine, thanks.”  
When the pleasantries had been exchanged, an uncomfortable silence began to spread in the room. However, Julie fought it with her natural charm.  
“We cooked you mum's special soup.”  
The eyes of the old woman lit up.  
“Oh, I remember that. It was delicious.”  
They sat down and Mrs Hudson tasted the soup. A smile lit up her face and a bit of the tension disappeared.  
“You never told me what's in it, dear.”  
Molly wrung her hands and tried a smile.  
“There is no secret, really. It's just oregano and sun-dried tomatoes.”  
“That's what the taste is. Delicious.”  
They smiled at each other, but in Mrs Hudson's eyes was still that glint of anger. Molly shrunk in her seat.  
They stayed for a while and made small talk until Mrs Hudson was done. Molly was incredibly relieved when they made their way through the door.

Now that that was done, the rest of the evening seemed much less uncomfortable. They watched TV after dinner, Sherlock in his chair, Molly and Julie on the couch, cuddling.  
When Julie dozed off several times, Molly decided it was time for bed.  
  
Having her little girl in her arms after three weeks of separation was nothing but bliss. She was so happy she even sang to her like she hadn't done in years.  
Julie fell asleep with a smile, curled against her mother. Molly however couldn't sleep at all. As soon as Julie was sleeping, the fact that she was spending the night at Baker Street with Sherlock a flight of stairs and ten feet away hit her right across the face. For hours she lay next to her daughter staring at the ceiling, trying to calm down enough so she could drift off. Apparently, her body wouldn't have it.  
  
...Great, and now she had to pee.  
For as long as possible, Molly tried to hold it in. But then she couldn't anymore.  
She checked her mobile: 2.33 a.m.  
All quiet downstairs.  
Maybe he was sleeping. Hopefully, he was.

Careful not to wake Julie, Molly slipped out of bed and out of the room. With bare feet and dressed in her baby blue pyjamas with little yellow ducks on them she descended the stairs, finding the flat lying in darkness except for the light of the exhaust hood in the kitchen.  
Avoiding the creaking board in the hallway, Molly tiptoed into the bathroom...and froze.  
Light falling through the glass doors leading to his bedroom. Him standing next to his bed, facing her. Shirtless.  
Molly gulped. She was terrified. She knew he could see her even though she hadn't turned the light on, yet.

For a moment both just stood there like idiots, looking at each other through frosted glass. Her breath became shallow, the warm light from his lamp illuminating his figure. Still lean. His skin still pale.  
Unconsciously, Molly sucked in her bottom lip, flashbacks to so many nights spent in this room, with him naked, vulnerable, on top of her, under her, inside of her. This room was where Julie was conceived, in a night of pure pleasure. How close they had been during these nights, his arrogance completely melted away and only this wonderful, brilliant and scared man left in her arms. A man who had loved her so much, who had caressed her, who had looked at her like no one else ever had.  
Molly swallowed down a lump in her throat.  
A part of her wanted to open that door. She wanted to see him, let her hands glide over his warm skin and toned muscles. She wanted to kiss his lips. She wanted to feel him wrap his arms around her and pull her against his lean, strong body. She wanted to feel his warmth and his hot breath on her neck. She wanted to-  
  
The figure behind the glass stepped out of sight. The light was switched off. Next, the door to his room opened and fell close again. Footsteps down the hall.

Molly released the breath she didn't realize she had been holding. She felt dizzy. Her legs were shaking. Now standing in complete darkness, she felt cold and alone.  
  
It would never happen again, she reminded herself as she took a deep breath, switched on the light and took care of her business.

  
The flat was still barely illuminated when she exited the bathroom and there was no sign of Sherlock.  
Unsure for a moment, she stood at the base of the stairs, biting her lip, her heart calling out to someone who despised her.  
“G'night”, she half-whispered and climbed the stairs.

 

After Molly had closed the door behind her, Sherlock emerged from the darkness of the living room, hands in his pockets, his chest bare and his heart pounding.  
He stood where she had stood a few seconds ago, staring at the door at the top of the stairs for God knows how long.

He felt alone and cold, remembering what once was. The anger which usually accompanied these memories didn't raise its head.  
  
Right now all he felt was sadness, regret and loss.


	12. Chapter 12

The Hooper-Holmes family decided it would be easiest if Molly flew back and prepared the move to London. When everything was set up Julie and Sherlock would follow to help packing. Julie wanted to show her father where she grew up, wanted him to see her school and her friends before she would say goodbye to them for a long while.   
For the time being the girls would live in the flat Mycroft had provided until they found a place Molly could actually afford. Money was a big issue for her. She accepted that Sherlock wanted to provide for his daughter and she didn’t fight him when they had argued that Julie should go to a public school with a scientific focus and that he would pay for it, neither did she say anything when he right then and there calculated the monthly costs for Julie’s well-being and set up a standing order at his bank.   
But she did fight both of the Holmes brothers when they also wanted to pay half the rent or help search for a suitable flat and she didn’t give in, no matter how angrily they stared at her. She had accepted the house in Paris back then because she didn’t have an alternative and had accepted the flat in London because she had thought this would be a temporary arrangement. But if she was to create a home for Julie and herself, it would be on her terms alone.   
In the end, Sherlock and Mycroft accepted this. At least officially. She had no doubt that Mycroft would somehow try to manipulate her into a flat he thought would be best for Julie; and she would have her eyes and ears open all the time to prevent this from happening.   
Molly had never liked owing anybody anything when it came to money and she was fed up with owing Mycroft so much. This was her chance to free herself from him and make a fresh start with her own capital. After twelve years in a well-paid job with no rent to pay and no electricity or water supply costs, she had been able to save up a nice amount of money. With a lot of luck she would be able to buy a nice little place not too far from school and a little park, maybe. She had never owned property before and the thought was quite exciting. 

  
Even though she was sad to leave her daughter again so soon, she certainly wasn't sad about leaving London and a certain father of her child. The tension between them had been so thick she could have cut it with a knife. And the night in the bathroom had woken that god damned yearning she had buried years ago. Looking at this beautiful man with his ridiculous beautiful eyes, those rotten cheekbones and despised artist's hands made it impossible to think clearly. And he still smelt so bloody fantastic it made her mouth water.   
Being so close to him, sleeping under the same roof as him after twelve years of dreaming and thinking about him had been a test of her psychological strength. A test she had barely passed. But she had done it, that's all that mattered, she tried to cheer herself up.   
The worst was over. She had made it through that first meeting, which had been more uncomfortable than horrifying. Somehow she had always imagined him furious rather than cold and distant. She could handle cold and distant, surely.   
  
  
~oOo~

 

Julie had two more weeks alone with her dad, her new family and his friends. They visited Scotland Yard, where Julie met the handsome Gregory Lestrade. Sherlock tried to prank him by letting Julie step into his office alone, but for the first time ever, the DI didn’t need a year to solve the mystery. One look at Julie and his mouth fell open.  
“That bastard!” did it burst out of him before he realized he was talking to a young girl and apologized.   
Julie only laughed. After three weeks with her dad she was quite familiar with a lot of English swear words. He loved to shout at the TV. She didn’t understand why. 

Next, Sherlock stepped inside his office and introduced his daughter properly. When he mentioned her mother, Lestrade’s eyes lit up.  
“Molly will come back?”  
An unfamiliar pinch in his heart made Sherlock blink.   
“Yes.”

“That’s wonderful. How is she?”  
“Fine as far as I can tell.”

“That’s wonderful. Your mother is a great gal, Julie.”  
“I know”, Julie confirmed, looking at Lestrade more closely. His hair was mostly grey, but his dark eyes were still sparkling and his smile lit up the entire room. 

_Hmm…_   
“Were you friends with my mum?”  
“I sure was.”  
“You were acquainted,” Sherlock disagreed. Why it suddenly bothered him that Grayson called himself Molly’s friend was beyond him.   
“We were friends,” the DI insisted.  
“What makes you so sure?”  
“She knows my first name, as opposed to other people in this room – except Julie.”  
Check mate.  
“You don’t know his first name?” Julie asked and looked up at her father, confused.   
“Of course I do”, Sherlock snapped.  
Lestrade folded his eyes in front of his chest.  
“Yeah? Let me hear it.”  
Sherlock’s mind was racing.   
Julie’s eyes widened.   
_Graham, Gordon, George, Gustav..._

“Come on, dad.”  
If he could just step outside and look at the name tag by his-  
“Even after almost twenty years you still don’t know.”  
Lestrade shook his head. 

It’s something with a ‘G’ for sure…

“It’s Greg!” Lestrade shouted in the end, his patience running out.

Letting the matter drop because he had accepted that it was no use, Greg showed Julie around the office and the interrogation rooms with Sherlock strolling behind. 

After two hours of giggling with the Detective Inspector, Julie was back in the car with her father.

“Do you really not know his name?”  
“Of course I do. It’s sort of a running gag between us.”  
Julie examined him closely. 

“What is it?”  
“What is what?”  
“Lestrade’s first name.”  
Sherlock sighed.   
“Oh. My. God”, Julie called out, between laughing and being horrified, “you are the smartest person on this planet, how can you forget your friend’s name?”  
“I don’t forget!”  
“Then tell me his name!”

“I don’t want to!”  
Julie fell back in her seat, laughing. Sherlock clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes at her. Just like her mother and Jamie, she wasn’t impressed. 

As soon as Julie had calmed down, she hooked her arm under his father’s and cuddled up next to him.   
“It’s Greg, by the way.”  
“I know.”  
“Don’t worry, dad. I’ll put it on a t-shirt for you.”  
He sighed again, but put his arm around her and pulled her close.   
Until they were back in the flat, father and daughter spent their time in comfortable silence. They did a quick check-up on Mrs Hudson, who was allowed to walk again, then went back upstairs. 

“I’m not in the mood to cook tonight. Chinese?” Sherlock asked and Julie nodded.   
“I’ll take the usual. Do you want to play Cluedo?”  
“Sure.”  
Finally, someone who Sherlock enjoyed playing with. Instead of getting mad, Julie loved it when her father flipped out over this game. 

  
~oOo~

  
“ Can I ask you something?” Julie suddenly asked mid-game and halfway through her spring roll. 

“Hm?” 

Sherlock was currently trying to find the next clue by staring at the board, so Julie repeated her question.  
“Of course.”  
He looked up. Julie fumbled with her pencil. 

“Are you still mad at mum?”  
He straightened, feeling insecure. He wasn’t good at handling these kinds of situations.   
“Because I am a bit. Not much, though, because I know she is sorry about keeping us apart, still I sometimes get sad when I think about all the things we have missed. And I don’t understand why she’s done that. Do you know why now?”  
Her blue eyes were big and sad. It was horrible to see her like that. 

“Yes, I do.”  
Patiently she waited for him to finally give her an explanation why her life had turned out like that.  
Sherlock didn’t want to add to her pain and he also didn’t want to think of him badly. But he knew the bubble would burst eventually and she would see that he wasn’t the perfect man she thought he was. It was important that she knew that he had made and would make mistakes. Still it was difficult to tell her. For a second he memorized her face, the look in her eyes, only love and no blame.   
“I’m a difficult man, Julie. And I was even more difficult thirteen years ago. I have done things I should be in prison for and the last thing I want you to see in me is a hero. I am not.”  
Julie was confused.   
“Still, your mother found it in her heart to love me. For years she was…in love with me.”  
Sherlock’s heart beat irregularly. It was still unbelievable that she had once loved him.   
“But the longer she knew me she also saw that dark side of me, if you want to be poetic. I endangered the ones around me due to my job and due to my choices. Ask John, he can tell you a few stories. Your mother knew that.”  
“But you were a couple, yes? She chose to be with you even though you were dangerous.”  
“For almost a year we were, yes.”  
The most wonderful year in his life. There was no point in denying it. Being with Molly had been better than being on a case. 

“Back then, she only endangered herself. But when she got pregnant, staying with me meant also endangering you.”

“So it is my fault!” Julie shot up, knocking over the Cluedo board, sniffing.  
“What? No, that’s not what I meant.”  
“I’m sorry, dad!”

Not listening to him she ran upstairs into her room, slamming the door.   
Sherlock puffed out some air. Of course he’d screw it up.   
Two seconds later he was at her door, not knowing whether he’d make it better or worse. He just knew he couldn’t let her cry alone in her room. 

“Open up, Julie.”  
He only heard rummaging and sobbing behind the wooden door, so he opened it himself.   
Julie was throwing clothes into her rucksack and the bag with her telescope was lying on her bed.  
“What are you doing?”  
“I’m going away.” She sniffed.

“Why?”  
“So you and mum can be happy. All I do is causing you heartbreak.”

The next thing that happened would change Julie forever.   
Her father laughed. 

She paused, totally baffled by this reaction, and blinked her tears away. 

“Don’t laugh at me!” Julie shouted and stomped her foot on the ground.

Sherlock crossed the distance between them and took the rucksack out of her hand.   
Then he sat down on her bed and wiped her tears away. 

The smile he gave her was pure affection. 

The twelve-year-old frowned.   
“What’s wrong with you?”  
“When I was as young as you I had countless of these kinds of fits. I wanted to run away from home so many times and become a pirate. I still do sometimes.”  
Julie smiled. 

“I have to say it was interesting to be on the receiving end of such a fit. Also, and there is no scientific proof for this but sentiment getting the better of me, I recognized myself in you. It feels nice.”  
Julie sniffed but smiled.  
“Am I like you?”  
“Does it matter?”  
“You just said it does.”  
“Touché.”  
“You’re French is getting better.”  
“Thanks.”  
Sherlock took her hands.   
“The scientific reason to procreate offspring is to pass on your genes, to live on in your children, how people call it. I don’t want that.”  
Julie’s face fell and he hurried to continue.  
“I am much more fascinated by the individual in front of me. Most of all, you are yourself, Julie, and you should never try to be someone you’re not. Believe me, I’ve tried that for a long period of my youth and it was horrible. Don’t try to be like me or your mother. Just be yourself.”  
“But me being like you makes you happy.”  
He smiled.   
“To see that we have things in common makes me happy, that doesn’t mean I want a copy of myself. I prefer you.”  
Now she smiled again, her cheeks and nose blushing.  
In a moment of tenderness Sherlock raised his hand and caressed her cheek.   
“I am very happy to have you in my life, Julie.”  
Her eyes were still wet but she gave him a beautiful smile. 

Then she hugged him and Sherlock pulled her close and closed his eyes. 

His daughter. Such a fascinating little person.

After a long, wonderful moment of closeness they parted. 

“I’m happy to have you as my dad.”  
Now it was Sherlock’s turn to beam.   
“Then let’s not waste our time on what could have been and just enjoy each other’s company.”  
“Okay.”  
They shook hands on it.

“Back to Cluedo”, Sherlock said and stood up.  
“But I knocked over the board.”  
“So? We just start a new game. I had that one solved, anyway.”  
Julie laughed.  
“No, you didn’t. You’re really bad at Cluedo.”  
“Excuse me?!”

She only giggled and hopped down the stairs. Sherlock smiled.   
He was quite proud of himself. 

The best parenting moment in his short career so far...and once again there had been no witness.  _Rats!_


	13. Chapter 13

For several days Julie just had fun. Her dad took her to some more museums and together with the Watsons they went to see Billy Elliot, which was followed by a slumber party at the Watsons’ house, Sherlock sleeping on the couch and Julie bunking up with Jamie. She really liked Jamie and her parents, and when her dad was out on a case – she still wasn’t allowed to go with him, bummer – she stayed with Mary and Jamie.  
The weekends were reserved for the Holmes family and Mycroft would always pick them up point 5 o’clock, whether Sherlock liked it or not. He always pouted when he had to visit his parents, which Julie didn’t understand at all. She loved her grandparents. They were so lovely and spoiled her crazy, a thing her father and uncle sometimes commented on. Mycroft in particular liked to point out that they’d never been allowed to eat cookies before dinner, so Julie concluded that this was all jealousy.

The evenings were mostly quiet, which was fine with Julie because Grandma Holmes always cooked way too much and far too well. After dinner she could merely roll through the cosy house and her belly hurt when Grandpa Holmes made her laugh. She was lying on the couch one of those evenings, cuddled into a blanket with her feet buried beneath her father’s thigh for warmth, who was currently reading a book on astronomy she had recommended so they could talk about it. It was in this moment of cosiness and warmth when Julie thought of her mum and felt sad that she was back in Paris all alone.  
“I hope mum’s okay.”

The second she had said it she could feel a shift in the atmosphere.  
“Why wouldn’t she be okay, love?” Grandma Holmes asked, who had been about to doze off in her old chair.  
Julie shrugged.  
“She’s home alone. I miss her.”  
“You’ll be with her again in a week. And then you can show me Paris.”  
Mycroft, Sherlock and Julie looked up.  
“Are you coming with us?”  
“No!” – “Yes!”  
Sherlock’s and Mycroft’s protest was countered with one stern look.

“Crystal! It will be a family trip!”  
“Exactly.”  
The brothers groaned; and were ignored.

“Well, I think I’m going to bed. Good night”, Mrs Holmes announced and was followed by her husband and Mycroft.

“He wants to talk her out of it, doesn’t he?” Julie asked her father.  
“Yup. Hope he succeeds.”  
“What is it with you and your mother?”  
“That would take too long to explain.”  
“I’m not going anywhere.”  
“You’re too young to understand?”

“Was that a question?”  
Sherlock’s eyes darted from one side to the other.  
“Yeees?”

They looked at each other and laughed. Julie sat up.

“You don’t want to talk about it.”  
“That is correct.”  
“Can we talk about mum?”  
He hesitated a moment too long for Julie to miss.

“About anything in particular?”

“I want you two to get along.”

“Don’t worry about that, Julie. We will.”  
“You mean you will pretend to.”  
Now he did close his book. Suddenly he wished his mother was back.

“I did not say that.”  
“I’m not stupid, dad.”  
“I don’t think you are.”  
Julie got more and more frustrated.

“Please be serious.”  
“Why does this concern you so much?”  
“Half of my class are children with divorced parents. I see parents who can’t stand each other and say mean things all the time. I know how terrible it is for my friends and I don’t want that. If you don’t want to see mum, I’d rather keep you and her apart. That would be okay for me, I just want to know now.”

Sherlock looked at her for a long moment. Such a clever girl.  
  
“I’m going to tell you what I’ve told your mother: What happened, happened. The only thing I’m interested in is the future with you. And your mother ensured me that she will not keep us apart, which was a thing I worried about. But now I know she wants us to be together just as much. So we’re fine.”  
“Are you sure?”  
“Yes.”

“So you’ve forgiven her?”

He hesitated.  
“I am trying to,” he answered honestly.

A few heartbeats later, Julie nodded.

“Okay.”

  
~oOo~

 

Not that he would let anyone know, but Sherlock had been nervous ever since they boarded the plane. Julie was beyond excited and chatted without breathing, so masking his nervousness was easy.

He would see where Molly and his daughter had lived for the past twelve years and he didn’t understand why this made him so uncomfortable. It was a house outside of Paris, nothing to be worried about. Still, something was nagging at the back of his mind and he didn’t have time for this. He had to prepare himself to see her again. This time, they would be on her territory, the place she called home.

Maybe that’s what made him so nervous, Sherlock contemplated, and not the fact that he would be alone with her again.  
It was so bloody exhausting to be around her, constantly fighting memories, old feelings and that new anger that was lurking in the shadows. He had to control it at all costs; for Julie’s sake. Ever since she had told him her worries that evening at the Holmes estate he had vowed himself that he would not be that kind of parent. He wanted to be more adult than that.  
He snorted inwardly. Sherlock Holmes wanting to be an adult. That’s something new.  
It was all the fault of this lovely girl who was now taking his hand and leading him through the airport. For her, he would be everything she needed him to be.

 

Sherlock’s heart skipped a beat when he spotted Molly standing outside the crowd. She hadn’t spotted them yet and he let his eyes roam over her. She was wearing blue jeans to her brown boots and instead of her white jacket she was wearing a camel stand collar poncho wool coat which fell like a skirt around her hips. Very elegant, very unlike the Molly he had known. This coat and the tousled bob reminded him that this Molly was dead.   

  
Suddenly, their eyes met. A shudder travelled through him. She smiled at him. A smile that blinded him.  
Then her eyes lowered and she raised her arm, waving excitedly.  
He realized the smile had been for their daughter. Coldness spread in his chest, chasing away the warmth he had felt for a second.

Julie let go of Sherlock’s hand and ran into the arms of her mother who lifted her off her feet and spun her around. They swayed and Sherlock panicked, but Molly caught herself, mother and daughter laughing.

“You’re getting too tall,” he heard Molly giggle when he reached them.  
Molly placed a kiss on Julie’s cheek as she put her down again before she straightened. Their eyes met again.  
The smile he was given was much less bright.

“Hello, Sherlock.”  
“Molly.”  
“Do you have everything?”  
“Yes.”

“Good. Off to the car, then.”  
“You own a car?”  
“No. It’s a friend’s car. He lent it to me to pick you up.”  
Molly took Julie’s hand and all three of them walked out of the airport to the parking lot. Julie was chatting with her mum in French. Sherlock didn’t listen.  
A male friend. Molly had a male friend.  
He shook his head.

It didn’t bother him. No, not at all.

  
~oOo~

 

The car turned out to be an old Ctiroën DS3, which was surprisingly comfortable. During the trip from the airport to the house Sherlock learnt something new about Molly Hooper: She was a fast driver. She glided through traffic swiftly, finding every gap and using it. Throughout the drive Sherlock had one hand on the door handle and held on for dear life. Julie on the other hand was totally relaxed, obviously being used to this kind of driving. He would have a serious word with Molly later. Her driving like this with their child in the car was reckless and dangerous and he forbade it.

When they finally reached their destination, Sherlock’s hand hurt from gripping the handle.

He got out of the car as fast as possible, spotting the moving van in front of the Hooper house. Sherlock had seen pictures of their house. It looked less lovely now with the cloudy sky. Still, the yellow and green painted window shutters brightened up the façade up to the point it almost hurt the eye.

“What do you think, dad?” Julie asked, standing next to him, her bag in her hand.   
“You were right; it does look similar to my parents’ house.”

“I’m sure Mycroft did that on purpose”, Molly commented as she passed them, taking Julie’s bag.

“Mycroft?”  
She looked over her shoulder, a strand of hair being blown into her face.  
“Yes. He provided the house. Didn’t he tell you?”  
“No.”  
Not knowing how to react to this, Molly just smiled and motioned them to follow her inside.   
“Oh my Gosh, mum!” Julie exclaimed when she stepped into the almost empty house.   
“You’re already done.”  
“Well, most of it. There is still your room, my room and part of the kitchen.”

Julie laughed when she spotted three outdoor chairs, a deckchair and a white folding table in the living room.

“Are these from Natalie’s garden?”  
“Yup. They lent them to me so we have something to sit on. Are you hungry? I could make lasagna.”  
“Awesome.”  
Molly looked at Sherlock and after a second he nodded.   
“Um, I’ve put a mattress in Julie’s room for you. I hope that’s okay.”  
Julie’s eyes started sparkling and she looked up at her father and waited for his reply.

“Of course.”

The twelve-year-old jumped and hugged her dad, letting out an adorable squeak.

“Come on, let’s unpack”, she shouted and hopped into her room.

Molly giggled and Sherlock’s eyes darted to her.   
“She’s so happy”, she commented and smiled at him.  
“Yes”, he replied, suddenly realizing they were alone in the almost empty living room.

“Did you like living here?”

The question kind of burst out of him. He couldn’t stop looking at her. The blush on her cheeks told him it made her uncomfortable.

“Yes, very much. Having a whole house to oneself is nice. But I don’t mind moving back to London.”  
“You don’t?”  
He was still wearing his coat. Maybe that’s why he felt so warm.

“No. Being back in London made me realized how much I’ve missed it. Life has its very own pulse there.”  
“Yes”, he confirmed, having thought the same every time he had been away from his city.

For a second they just stood there, Molly tugging her hair behind her ear and looking anywhere but directly at him. He on the other hand wasn’t able to look anywhere else, apparently. He didn’t even know what he was looking for but his look must have been intense, judging from Molly’s reaction when their eyes met again. Her cheeks colored even more and her big brown eyes were shining with confusion, fear…and something he was afraid to acknowledge.

“Come on, dad!”  
Sherlock and Molly flinched.

“Of course.”  
With a nod in Molly’s direction he crossed the room.   
“What were you doing?” Molly heard Julie ask Sherlock to which he replied “Nothing”.

Well, whatever the heck that had been, it hadn't been nothing.   
He had looked at her so intensely her heart had begun racing and her skin had begun tingling. That look definitely had been nothing!

Molly sighed.

_Don’t over-interpret_ , did Molly scold herself and finally took off her coat and got to work on dinner, all the while listening to the muffled voices coming from Julie’s bedroom. She had forgotten how beautiful his voice was, she thought involuntarily. So rich, so deep, so powerful. But it could also be sweet and tender, she remembered as she layered the sheets of lasagna and the Bolognese sauce. Words of love, whispered into her ear while he moved on top of her echoed through her mind. He had only ever told her how he felt for her when they had made love. Only in the darkness and the safety of her arms had he been brave enough to tell her.

Molly pushed the prepared lasagna into the oven and set the timer. She washed her hands next, sprinkling a little water on her cheeks to cool them. Dwelling in such memories wasn’t proper at all, especially not with her daughter in the next room. Also, she never could remember without feeling a stinging guilt in her heart. In a way she felt that it was forbidden to remember, for she had been the one who had thrown it all away.

 

Molly sighed. There was no use for this guilt-trip now. She had taken it so many times, nothing good had ever come out of it. It was done, it was in the past. All she wanted was to move on, like Sherlock had. She could do it, for herself and her daughter.

To take her mind of things, Molly walked into her room and continued to pack her clothes into a big, baby blue suitcase. She had already taken down the board with Julie’s paintings and her favorite photos and had safely stored them in a separate box together with all the other photo albums. She had been surprised how many she had made throughout the years. Twenty! Twenty photo album in twelve years. That was too many, wasn’t it? But she hadn’t had the heart to throw any of them out. Molly had always been sentimental and pictures had a special value for her. She’d rather throw out a book than a picture, which said a lot, because she loved books.   
That reminded her to get more boxes for the books. She couldn’t put them all in one or no one would be able to lift it. Quickly, Molly put that on her to-do-list, which she had with her at all times. She would be lost without it.

 

The beeping of the oven-timer startled Molly. Had it been 30 minutes already?

When she took the casserole dish out of the oven, Sherlock and Julie joined her.

“Hm, smells delicious, Mum”, Julie praised her and smiled.

“Thanks. Could you set the table, please?”  
“Sure. Dad, hand me the dishes, please. They’re in that cabinet.”

Sherlock stepped next to Molly and she couldn’t help but eye him for a second, acknowledging that he was wearing a deep red shirt with the usual black trousers. His shirts were still tight-fitting. And he smelled more delicious than the lasagna.

_Gah, stop it!_  
  
After a swift mental kick, Molly carried their dinner over to the folding table and placed it in the middle. Julie and Sherlock brought dishes and cutlery.   
“Would you like something to drink, Sherlock?” Molly inquired, looking into his eyes bravely.   
“A coffee after dinner.”  
“Oh. Um, I already packed the coffee maker. But I’ll get it out for you, no problem.”  
“That won’t be necessary, thank you.”  
“It’s no trouble at all.”  
“It’s not necessary. Tea will be fine.”  
“Okay. How about you, sweetie?”  
“Lait-menthe!”

“Really? While eating dinner?”  
Julie nodded.

“I missed lait-menthe the most. We have to buy a couple of bottles before we leave.”  
Molly smiled.   
“5 bottles already packed.”  
“You’re the best.”  
“I know.”  
After Molly ran her fingers through Julie’s hair, she went into the kitchen to prepare the drink.   
“Peppermint milk?” Sherlock inquired doubtingly.

“Yes. It’s delicious. You can take a sip of mine if you like. We mix milk with a lot of syrups. I also like grenadine and almond.”

“There you go.”  
Molly was back and put the glass of lait-menthe on the table. Then she took a spatula and portioned the lasagna, the table wobbling dangerously while she worked. Meanwhile, Julie took a huge gulp from her drink.

“Ah! That’s the stuff.”

Molly laughed.

“Since when do you say that?”  
“Grandpa Charlie always says that when he has his daily beer.”  
“Daily beer? His liver has gotten worse, then”, Molly said to Sherlock, who nodded.   
“Have you ever seen one get better?” he asked, not expecting an answer.   
“Would you like to try it, dad?”  
“Sure, why not.”  
Julie handed Sherlock the drink.

Molly put a slice of lasagna on Julie’s plate.   
Sherlock took a sip of lait-menthe.

Molly stood up and pushed the spatula under the slice of lasagna.

The table wobbled.

Julie watched her father closely.   
Sherlock swallowed the peppermint milk.

Molly lifted the lasagna out of the casserole dish and bent over to put it on Sherlock’s plate.

Her foot bumped against one leg of the folding table.

The folding table crashed to the floor.

So did the lasagna.

As well as three plates, three knives and three forks.

Molly was still bent over, spatula with a slice of lasagna on it in hand.

Sherlock still held the glass with his long fingers.

Three pairs of eyes stared at the corpse of the folding table, the broken china and the remains of their dinner.

Then they looked at each other.   
The Hooper girls burst out laughing.

The Holmes boy joined in.

Molly hurried into the kitchen, balancing the lasagna and quickly putting it on a plate before she dropped the spatula and held her belly, laughing.

The sight of Sherlock and Julie still sitting on their chairs was hilarious.

“Are you okay?” Molly asked her daughter in between laughs. Julie only nodded.   
“I have to get my phone”, she snorted and did as she said.

“Sit back down, mum. Yes, like this.”  
It took several attempts to take a picture of their first dinner in France that didn’t turn out blurred.

After it was done, Julie sat down again, holding her belly.

They had calmed down again.

“Well, that’s three plates less you have to pack”, Sherlock said and they shared another laugh.

“Send the picture to Natalie”, Molly said to Julie and the girl did so immediately.

Not a minute later, the person in question called and Julie put her on speaker so she and Molly could both talk to her. Sherlock didn’t catch all of it, but from the sound of her voice this Natalie was beyond embarrassed and apologized profoundly, in the end laughing with Molly and Julie after they ensured her several times that they were not mad.

All the while Sherlock sat back in his chair, looking at them. They were so much alike. Their smile, their giggle, the gestures of their hands.   
...They were beautiful.

 

After the unintended evening entertainment, they ended up sharing the surviving slice of lasagna and some sandwiches on Sherlock’s mattress on the floor in Julie’s room, Julie sitting in between the two adults. Their heads rested on Julie’s bed and while they ate, they looked at the stars through the skylight, Julie giving them a free lecture in astronomy, which was interrupted when she had to use the bathroom.

“I hear you’ve brushed up on your knowledge about the solar system”, Molly joked, feeling peaceful and relaxed in Sherlock’s presence for a change.

“I hardly had a choice.”  
“Quite fascinating, isn’t it?”

He shrugged, still looking at the little white lights in the black sky.

“It’s not as dull when Julie talks so passionately about it.”  
“She’s passionate about so many things. Has she told you about her favourite popstar, yet?”  
“Madeleine Trivous. I’ve listened to all her songs.”

“Thorough as always, Mr Holmes.”  
His mouth twitched into a smile.

“Julie hears it constantly in her room when I’m working. I can sing along to fourteen, no fifteen of her songs.”  
Her giggle made him turn his head to the side. Molly had her face on the side as well and she smiled at him. He knew this little smile so damn well. It felt so good, but it also hurt.

Right now, he didn’t mind the pain. To look at her in the dim light of Julie’s bedside lamp was too special.

Two months ago he had thought he’d never see her again. And now, here they were, sitting in their daughter’s room in France, sharing sandwiches. It had all happened so fast, Sherlock still had trouble to grasp it all.

_Molly…_

“Where were we?”  
Julie came back into the room and rejoined them on the mattress.   
“Actually, I’ve been to this lecture before, mind if I step out and clean up the mess?”  
“We can help.”  
“That won’t be necessary. You stay here with your father and enjoy the stars.”  
“Okay.”  
Molly held out her hand to take Sherlock’s empty plate. Wordlessly, he handed it over. Their knuckles brushed against each other and their eyes met for a second. Then Molly got up and left the room. Her touch, that brief brushing of skin and bone, lingered on his finger for several minutes. 


	14. Chapter 14

Two hours later, Sherlock stepped out of Julie’s room and silently closed the door.

He found Molly in the living room, sitting at the folding table, scribbling on a notepad.   
“You repaired it.”  
“Not really. It’s just duct tape and hope keeping it together. Would you like that coffee now?”  
He frowned, then he understood.

“I told you tea would have sufficed.”  
“And I told you it was no trouble.”  
She stood up from the table carefully and walked past him into the kitchen. Sherlock looked at the crinkled piece of paper on top of the notepad. _A to-do-list. Of course._  
Sherlock found himself smiling. Apparently, not everything changed.

Footsteps behind him announced Molly’s return.   
She held the mug of coffee out to him.

“I don’t trust this table”, she explained with a smile.

He took the coffee.   
On top of her own mug sat a saucer with colored macaroons.  
“You can’t be in France without tasting them at least once”, Molly said and held the saucer out to him.   
Her voice was soft as well as her smile.   
Sherlock’s heartbeat accelerated. An orange warning light flashed inside his mind palace, yet he took a red biscuit and bit into it.

Her eyes were focused on his lips.

“Raspberry and…lychee?”  
Molly nodded.

She was still looking at his mouth.

Her fingers reached for a green macaroon.   
Now he was looking at her mouth, too.

The temperature of the room rose. His fingers tingled. Luckily, he was holding a mug in one hand and a cookie in the other. But he wanted to put them down on that fragile table and reach out for her.   
God, he wanted to touch her. Feel her skin beneath his fingers, the texture of her hair. He was sure he remembered it wrong. It couldn’t have been that soft, that silken.   
And her lips couldn’t possibly taste as sweet as he remembered. She had worn chop sticks back then, honey and strawberry. So sweet. So very, very sweet…

  
Sirens were blazing inside his head now and Sherlock realized he had tilted his head in her direction.

_No goodbye._

_No explanation._

_Not a single word._

_No._

He wouldn’t go through that pain again.

One heartbreak was enough.

Clearing his throat, Sherlock leaned back and shoved the rest of the macaroon inside his mouth, stepping away from her.

“I’ll take this outside, if you don’t mind.”  
Molly blinked, her cheeks and pixie nose a pink red. Then she shook her head.

“No, of course not.”  
Sherlock nodded and hurried out of the room, grabbed his coat and left the house. He took a long walk down the road, for once not paying attention to his surroundings, the coffee in his hand cooling rapidly.

So, the sexual attraction was still there, he thought matter-of-factly. Denying it was useless. He had always felt attracted to her and they had always had chemistry, even in the first months of their acquaintance. He hadn’t known what it was back then, of course, but he had always felt this pull towards the shy, doe-eyed pathologist.

That pull was still there. Admittedly, it was even stronger now after twelve years of abstinence and those memories of all the good sex they had.

Good sex. Great, actually. There were nights when it had been literally mind-blowing.

He shook his head so hard he spilled some of the coffee.

_No thinking about sex with Molly Hooper_ , he commanded his brain.

Sherlock had to focus on logic.

Logically, his daughter’s mother had left him in the most hurtful way possible.

Logically, she had kept from him that he had a daughter.

Logically, Molly Hooper was a woman who had betrayed his trust.

Still, logically, he knew she was sorry.

Logically, he understood that she was trying to make up for her past mistakes.

Logically, she had given up her home and job within the blink of an eye to enable Sherlock to stay in London.

Logically, the way she looked at him proved that she was still attracted to him, as well.

Sherlock stopped walking. He sipped his cold coffee.

 

Regardless of all the logical facts, in the end only one thing was of importance: Did he want to get involved with Molly Hooper again?

She had walked out of him, just like that.

How could she have done that after everything they had been through?

For years, she had been his rock. No matter how mad, how selfish or how high he had been, she had endured his waves of rudeness and spite clashing against her with nothing but strength and grace. Never had she faltered to believe in him. Never had she stopped being there for him when he had needed her. She had slapped him across the face and had listened whenever he needed it.   
Sherlock had trusted her blindly, completely. Once, he had put his life in her hands, knowing that she would save him, like she always had.

And then, she was gone.

From one moment to another, he had been alone. Without her strength and guidance, he had felt so god damn forlorn. He hadn’t felt like this since his disastrous teenage years, which he had only been able to endure flying high as a kite.

If John and Mary and little Jamie hadn’t been there for him…

  
  
~oOo~

 

_He was sitting on the couch, only the last light of the day illuminating the living room. He stared at the utensils before him. He was itching everywhere. He couldn’t stand this anymore. He couldn’t work like this, with this numb sensation in the back of his head. His tongue slid over the inside of his lip; he had gnawed it raw. The pain was a welcome distraction, but it didn’t suffice. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the flexible rubber tube he had removed from his Bunsen burner, let it slide through his fingers. He licked the patch of raw skin again._

_The voice was back. Telling him that he was strong enough, that he’d only use once to finally get some sleep. He would be in control, like the last time, for that case…_

_A slapping sound echoed within his mind and for a second he felt the sting on his cheek._

‘ _How dare you throw away your beautiful gift?! How dare you to betray the love of your friends?!’_  
Molly…  
His eyes fell close. The space around him felt so empty and cold. The silence around him drove him crazy. He couldn’t work like that. He needed…he needed…her. 

_With an outcry Sherlock wiped his coffee table clean and threw the damned thing over. He destroyed half his flat that night; not even his chair was spared. Only when his lungs were burning did he stop and let his body crash to the floor, welcoming the pain and exhaustion.  
For the first time in a month he slept more than two hours, right there on the living room floor, not dreaming about brown eyes and a loving smile for a change. _

  
~oOo~

  
Sherlock opened his eyes.

No, he didn’t want to go through something like this again. If it hadn’t been for the Watsons, Sherlock had gone mad.   
‘ _You feel too much_ ’, his brother had once told him. Now he knew that this was true. Feelings had indeed made him weak and pathetic. He would not let this happen again.

His eyes fell on the mug. It had cartoon puppies on it. She and her ridiculous penchant for kitsch.

Suddenly, anger boiled in him. He gripped the mug as hard as he could. But no matter how much he pressed, the mug wouldn’t break. But he needed it to. He couldn’t stand the big dark eyes of the puppies staring at him.

When he failed to squish the mug with his bare hands, he hurled it into the bushes. The sound of the mug breaking was music in his ears.

He turned around and walked back, his steps a little lighter now…until he spotted Molly at the garden gate, looking for him.

“Are you okay?”  
“Yes”, he replied stiffly and ignored her big eyes as he walked past her.

“I was beginning to worry you’ve lost your way.”  
“Now you worry?”  
Molly took a step back when he snapped at her. Those brown eyes be damned.

“I’m fine”, he said through gritted teeth and stepped into the house.

She didn’t mention the missing mug. Neither did he.


	15. Chapter 15

Molly pulled away from him after his little outburst and Sherlock was glad about it. Even though he had promised Julie not to pretend, he caught himself doing it. But what choice did he have? If he stayed at a hotel he would lose time with her. And he quite enjoyed them sleeping in the same room. Well, her sleeping and him reading all of her books. Sometimes, he just sat there and watched her, her little peaceful face, her eyes hurrying behind closed lids. Her lips often moved as though she was speaking, but she never made a sound. It was adorable. It still amazed him that he helped creating this beautiful girl. Often enough he had to stop himself from reaching out and letting his hand stroke her hair, like Molly did. Under no circumstances did he want to wake her. Looking at her was all he asked for.

 

They had agreed that Julie would go back to school to say goodbye to her classmates and teachers. She insisted that Sherlock accompanied her and he didn’t have the heart to tell her that this wasn’t his area. So they went together, taking the metro to school.  
It turned out to be a memorable day. Sherlock noticed how proud Julie was of him and he amused her and her friends by deducing things.

He had to admit, her school was excellent. A big science department, a tech room as well as a music hall which could be turned into a little theatre. It supported science as well as art. Molly had chosen wisely.

Sherlock was also introduced to her daughter’s best friend Maguerite aka Maggie. She was a bright young girl and her and Julie were thick as thieves. Sherlock was glad Julie wasn’t a loner like he had been in school.  
When it came to Maggie’s mother, Sherlock had proof that not all children were like their parents. A horrible woman. Background of low social standard, had married up. Didn’t love her husband. A constant user of apps for finding casual sex. Insatiable appetite, saw men as some kind of prey by the way she was looking at him. To top it all off, a passion for gossip.  
“So, Maguerite told me that you had no idea you are a father.”  
“No”, he confirmed and wished that Julie would hurry hugging her friends and teacher goodbye.

“Must have been quite a shock for you.”  
Since it wasn’t a question he didn’t feel obliged to answer. His patience was running thin either way.

“Let me guess: A drunken one-night-stand?”

He glanced at her.  
“Of course you were drunk”, she giggled and pushed out her full breasts, “you are way out of Molly’s league.”  
He frowned. No one had ever said such a thing to him. And he had never thought that for one second.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”  
God, these kind of women! So obnoxious.  
“No.”  
“Oh, that’s a pity. No one to keep you warm at night.”

“Just because I don’t have a girlfriend doesn’t mean I am cold at night.”  
“Oh, really? Interesting.”

She smirked and lifted a challenging eyebrow.

Sherlock was short from rolling his eyes. Luckily, Julie and Maggie were finally on their way over. This didn’t stop Madame Faure to slip him her card.

“In case you get lonely”, she winked before the children reached them.

Now he did roll his eyes. On their way out, Sherlock tossed her card into the bin, making sure she saw it.

The look on her face made him smile.

 

Back at the house the packing continued. Molly was rolling cups and glasses into bubble wrap while ‘Team Jullock’, how Julie had called herself and Sherlock, finished up her room. By the end of the day only her bed and Sherlock’s mattress remained. Sherlock carried the boxes Molly had packed into the truck. When he put down the last one, he took a look around. Their life in one big truck. He took some time to snoop around a bit, inspected the classic furniture (most of it dark Indian solid wood), the comfy blue-white couch, countless colorful pillows, some paintings. He read the titles of the boxes. One of them was labelled ‘L&P’.

His fingers twitched. What the heck was ‘L&P’ supposed to mean? He touched the box, then the tape. There was an edge not sticking to the cardboard. His fingernail went under it. He pulled.

The ripping sound reminded him that this was none of his bloody business and he let go.

He did not care, he reminded himself, climbed out of the truck and closed the doors.

 

~oOo~

 

Fine, he bloody well did care. He had to know. It had swirled around in his head the entire night and the following day. And as luck would have it, neither Molly nor Julie were at home at the moment. Julie would spend her last night at Maggie’s and Molly was out with her colleagues for some kind of goodbye party.

It was their fault, really, that he found himself in the truck now, a cutter-knife in hand. He had switched on the light inside the truck so he was able to close the door and remain undisturbed.

A second passed, then the box was cut open. Sherlock bent over, curious what to find in the mysterious box called ‘L&P’.

After a quick look around he realized that ‘L’ stood for ‘London’. He recognized items that had been in her flat, for example all the touristic rubbish she had bough: Figurines of the royal family, a miniature London telephone booth, Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, the Shard, the London Eye and so forth. He also discovered the old Rubik’s cube she used to have on the end table next to her couch. One of her life goals had been to solve one of those. Apparently, she had succeeded. Sherlock picked it up. He remembered playing with it countless of times, tossing it from hand to hand or turning the rows, destroying Molly’s progress. She had been very angry with him when she found out that he was sabotaging her. Yet, she had never put it away.

Without thinking about it, Sherlock began turning the rows, messing it up again. Then he let the cube drop back into the box.

Next thing he found was the smiley-face mug, safely wrapped in bubble wrap. The electric fly batter that looked like a tennis racket was there, too. He also found Toby’s collar and picked it up, taking a moment to think of her beloved cat. He had been a sneaky bastard at first, but over the years Sherlock had grown quite fond of him and was almost as sad as Molly when he passed.

Then there were the photo albums. He recognized most of them, full of old family pictures and photographs Molly had taken. She was quite a talented photographer.  
The album she had made during their time as a couple was missing and a sting shot through his heart. Of course it wouldn’t be here.

Now Sherlock spotted a green photo album he didn’t know. When he opened it and skimmed through the pages, he guessed that ‘P’ stood for pregnancy. It was all Molly. _His_ Molly; the Molly from twelve years ago.

Most of the pictures were only Molly’s growing belly. He couldn’t help but smile. She had decorated it with toys, pretending it to be a meadow where Playmobil cows were grazing. She often had painted her bump, the most funny ones a volcano, the sun and the earth. His smile faded when he saw a picture where she had placed the London sights geographically correct on her baby belly. Molly had painted a little red dot for 221b Baker Street.

So she had thought about him...

Sherlock didn’t know what to make of this, so he turned the page over.

Next came a full body picture in front of a mirror. It must have been near the end of her pregnancy. He guessed 8th or 9th month. She was looking at the camera instead of the mirror.

A numb feeling spread in his chest when he looked at her face. She looked pale and thin, despite her belly. There were dark circles under her eyes and her hair had lost its shine.  
  


_A difficult pregnancy._

_You don’t take a picture of yourself when you’re not feeling well that day. But if you constantly feel bad you stop recognizing it._  
  


Molly had been unwell. She had suffered. She had tried to cheer herself up by drawing on her baby bump.

Sherlock kept staring at her grey face, feeling…guilty.  
He should have been there.

He should have taken care of her.

If he had swallowed his pride and taken that one second to find out where she had gone, this picture wouldn’t exist.

He would have found her and taken her home to Baker Street, where she had belonged all along.

The longer Sherlock looked at the picture the more it hurt.

In the end he had to close the photo album. His eyes were wet and he hurried to rub the wetness away.

It was not his fault, he reminded himself.

This had been her decision. She had been the one who ran, not him. He had wanted them to be together. It had been her own doing!

He repeated these words inside his head over and over again until the anger was back to simmering below the surface, as usual.

Sherlock had just dropped the photo album into the box and was seriously considering destroying the damned smiley-face mug when the sound of a car door being thrown shut echoed through the truck. Two muffled voices; one of them definitely Molly.

Clenching his jaw, Sherlock walked to the door and opened it.

Molly stood in front of the garden gate to her house, a man in front of her. They were talking in French.

The infamous _male friend_ Eric. Sherlock recognized the car.

They laughed and Eric handed her a bag. They hugged.

Sherlock balled his hands into fists.

Then Eric tugged a strand of hair behind Molly’s ear and for a moment it looked like he would kiss her.

In that second Sherlock’s whole body tensed up and the desire to punch that man was overwhelming.

Eric only kissed her cheek. Then he walked back to his car. He waved before he climbed inside and drove away.  
Sherlock still wanted to punch him.

He was furious. But the man was gone and he didn’t know where to focus this fury on. His eyes settled on Molly.

She was about to turn around when she noticed him standing on the lit platform of the truck.

“Sherlock?”

The sound of her voice only fuelled his anger and he realized it was best if he withdrew. Otherwise he’d only say things that made the whole situation worse.

So he turned around and slammed the door shut.

A few seconds later it was opened.

_Damn that woman!_

“What are you doing in here?”

“Nothing. Leave.”  
His icy tone should do it.

“Is everything okay?”

That blasted woman! Why didn’t she just listen to him once?!

Sherlock’s eyes fell on the photo album.

“What was wrong with you?”

“What?”

Now he turned around. She was wearing light makeup and lipgloss.

His body tensed again.

“The pregnancy. You were sick.”  
“How do you-? Have you been going through my stuff?”  
She set the bag on the floor and looked around him at the open box.

“You had no right to do that.”

She sounded angry. How dared she?!

“Like I had no right knowing that I was becoming a father, that you were carrying my child under your heart?”  
“Our child!”

“Terminology? Really?” he growled and took a menacing step forward. “Fine then. _Our_ child. Yours as well as mine. You took my child away from me. I had a right to know!”  
  


Molly looked at him with big eyes, her hands trembling as she raised them defensively.

“Sherlock, please calm down.”  
“No! I’m fucking done!”

His strong voice boomed through the small space and Molly flinched.

“How could you do that to me? How could you just get up and leave me without a word, like a thief in the night? Haha, well, you were a thief, weren’t you?” he asked sarcastically, not waiting for a reply. “You stole our child!”

“I’m not talking to you when you’re being like this.”  
“And then you sat here in Paris, all alone, being sick all of those nine months. Weren’t you?”

“Stop it, Sherlock!”

There were tears in her eyes now. Good!

“You risked our baby’s life because you were too fucking stubborn to call me! I would have come and you know it. I would have taken you home to Baker Street!”

“I came here to protect my baby!”  
“ _Our_ baby!”

A sob burst out of Molly and she whirled around, running for the door.

“Oh no!” Sherlock yelled and grabbed her arm, pulling at it roughly and slamming the door shut.  
“You won’t run away from me this time!”

“Let me go!” she yelled back, tears streaming down her face.

“This time you will have the fucking courtesy to look me in the eyes and admit that you made a mistake. That’s the least you can do.”

“The least I can do?” she snapped back, her hands curled into fists, her knuckles white. He had put her into a corner and now there was nothing else to do but to fight back.

“I was the one being alone! You had your friends and family and a home! I had no one! I was all by myself, staying in this house, doing everything to make sure our baby was okay! I sacrificed everything for Julie!”

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

Now she took a step forward.

“You’re right, I was sick. For bloody nine months I was fucking miserable. The pregnancy was a nightmare. But I knew I had to do it. I wanted her, Sherlock, I wanted her like I’ve never wanted anything in my life...I even wanted her more than you.”  
She could see the hurt flashing over his face.

“I wanted this baby so much. I loved her from the very first moment and when I sat in the doctor’s office I vowed to her that I would do everything to protect her. And then I came home and there were people and arguments. It was so god damn loud. I begged you to look at me, to focus on me instead of your cases just this once. But you didn’t. You didn’t even look me in the eyes when you left. And when you were gone…”, she had to pause to get some air into her lungs, “…I saw the chaos and the chemicals carelessly standing around in the kitchen. It was then I realized how dangerous it all was. If I stayed with you…I knew I would lose her. And I couldn’t let that happen.”  
Sherlock’s vision was blurred, but he crossed the distance until he was standing right in front of her.

“I would have done everything for you and Julie”, he hissed, his chest burning from the pain raging inside.

When Molly shook her head, another tear rolling down her face, he couldn’t breathe.

“It’s easy to say that now. But you were a different man back then. A man who turned to drugs just because his best friend got married.”  
His whole body started trembling.

She had always believed in him.

She had always seen the best in him.

She had told him so many times that he was capable of anything…

And now she was telling him that it had been nothing but lies.

His heart was racing.

No, no, that couldn’t be. He needed this. She might not believe in him now, but back then she had!

She had seen more than just a drug addict who would eventually end up dead in a dumpster, like his brother used to tell him in his teenage years.

He grabbed her shoulders.

“You believed in me! You loved me! Say it!”

He shook her.

Molly pressed her hands on his chest, trying to push him away. She was sobbing again, telling him to let go, her voice cracking up.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t let go. Not until she admitted that what they had had been real.

“Tell me you loved me!” he shouted, shaking her again.  
“No”, she whimpered, his hands hurting her.

She couldn’t say it. Not now when he was acting like this and hurting her. He wasn’t himself now. Never had she seen him like this, so furious and out of control. It scared her.

All of a sudden Sherlock let go of her, pushing her away. He paced back and forth, his hands fisted in his hair. Then his eyes fixed on her again.

Molly gasped.

His eyes!

So lost. So desperate. So hurt.

She had done this to him. She had said horrible things to him, she realized now. She hadn’t meant to!

Molly opened her mouth to apologize. But she would never speak.

Sherlock rushed forward and suddenly she was pinned against the wall. Before she could react Sherlock crashed her lips onto hers, both hands cupping her face.

Lord help her!

His mouth! God, his wonderful mouth!

Her head was spinning and her knees were about to give out, but then Sherlock hooked his strong hands into the hollows of her knees and hoisted her up, pressing her against the wall.

A jolt rushed through her body, it roared to life underneath this man’s demanding hands.

God, it had been so long! All these sensations! Her body was burning with need. Need to be touched and kissed. It wanted to be reclaimed by him. Sherlock. Her Sherlock.

Fabric was torn, the sound thundering in her ears.

Her mouth and teeth were hurting from his passionate kiss. But she didn’t mind. The pain was nothing compared to the pleasure raging through her veins.

_More, more!_

She grabbed and pulled at his hair, he moaned into her mouth. He loved it when she did that.

Her legs were tightly wrapped around his narrow waist, pressing him against her.

God, she needed to feel his skin on hers.

With strength she hadn’t known she had inside her she tore his shirt and pressed her hands onto his bare skin. It was so god damn smooth and hot, she couldn’t get enough. Never enough!

Sherlock panted into her mouth between kisses, his forehead pressed against hers as he looked down to pull down her bra.

Molly gasped.

She had forgotten how bloody good it felt when she was touched.

His caresses caused her to squeal.

Sherlock growled, the sexiest sound Molly had ever heard.

She needed him so bad! Her whole body was burning with lust and need. It was torture. The most wonderful kind of torture.

When she closed her eyes she could feel it so intensely: His hands kneading flesh, his mouth sucking, his tongue licking and his teeth biting.

She wailed when he bit into her neck so hard his teeth almost broke skin.

Her body was burning up. She needed him now.

“Sherlock”, Molly begged, her short nails scratching over his back.

With another growl Sherlock pulled her off the wall. One more hungry kiss, then Molly was buried underneath him on the hard floor.

Urgent hands pulled at belts and fabric.

Trembling fingers on her inner thighs, sliding upwards to her most intimate area.

Molly writhed, begging him with her body to give her more! More!

She needed him so bad!

Finally, finally he covered her body with his and for a second their eyes melted into each other.

Molly’s heart was racing; that one second felt like eternity. This need for him, buried all these years, was scorching every inch of her body and soul. There was only him. This beautiful, strong man on top of her, the father of her child.

One strong move of his hips; they were one.

The sensation was overwhelming and Molly cried out as wave after wave of pleasure clashed over her.

Damn it, she had forgotten how amazing sex was.

She wanted more of that. More of him.

Again she grabbed his hair and instantly he moaned, his lips finding hers.

They lost themselves in their passion, feeling eternity where only minutes passed. 

 

~oOo~

 

Both of them panting heavily, they lay there, their heads slowly clearing up.

Molly had always been the first to come out of the aftermaths of orgasm, so was it this time.

Tears welled up in her eyes. Not because she regretted what happened. On the contrary. It had been wonderful, so wonderful. Not in her wildest dreams had she dared to hope that she would touch or kiss or feel him again. Him lying on top of her now, feeling his weight and his warm skin, smelling him; it all made her so bloody happy she wanted to cry.

It had been as if they’d never parted, these few minutes of passions had brought back so many little details she thought she had forgotten.

Molly would give everything for this moment to never end, both of them united, both of them relaxed and carefree. When she closed her eyes she could imagine them back at Baker Street thirteen years ago when they had been happy and in love. So in love…

The bubble Molly so desperately tried to create burst when she felt Sherlock’s body stiffen on top of her.

A tear escaped her lashes; and it took all the happiness with it.

Without looking at her Sherlock lifted himself off of her. Molly closed her legs and sat up as well, turning her back to him.

She shivered from the cold in the truck, now feeling it for the first time, and slung the shreds of her blouse around her body. Biting back tears she scrambled off the floor and pulled up her pants, listening to Sherlock zipping up his trousers.   
Molly felt so cold, so embarrassed and so alone.

She spotted her jacket on one of the boxes and put it back on, finding no warmth inside.

Hesitantly, with nothing else left to do, she turned around, glancing up at him. His shirt was buttoned with the only button left on it, exposing most of his chest. He stared at a spot next to her. Several times did he open his mouth to speak.

“I…This shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. Gosh, if she could only fight those bloody tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Did…Did I hurt you?”

A wave of sickness rolled through her. Hurt her?! Hadn’t he noticed that she had wanted it just as much? Didn’t he understand that there was nothing more hurtful than his behaviour now? He didn’t even look at her! A minute ago he was inside her and now he didn’t even have the decency to look her in the eyes.

Molly shook her head and ran for the door. This time he let her go. 


	16. Chapter 16

Two days later, Molly woke up in her new flat in London, that night still the first thing on her mind. She rolled up into a ball and cried again like she had done when she had fled out of the van and into her room. She felt so bloody miserable. She had no idea how she managed to put up a straight face when she was around Julie, but luckily she did. She didn’t even want to think what this would do to Julie if she found out her parents were…

Molly didn’t even know what they were. For a little while she had thought they could make it, that they could find a neutral basis they could spent their life on. That somehow they could leave the hurt and heartache in the past and go on as parents to a wonderful child. But now it was impossible. And all that because of her. If she had just calmed Sherlock down, had sat down with him and explained it all, nothing of this would have happened. She should have done so at Baker Street, even though Sherlock hadn’t wanted to hear it. She had prepared a speech and she should have given it. Instead she had yelled things into his face he was never supposed to know. He had been so angry and he had said things she had accused herself of all those years; she had just snapped.

Those had been her deepest and darkest thoughts, lies she had told herself to make it through the separation. Back then she had to put some of the blame on him, on his dangerous lifestyle, just to tell herself that it wasn’t her fault alone.

Sherlock had been so hurt. The look in his eyes would haunt her forever. With her angry words she had destroyed the last bit of hope that they could return to normality. She had doomed them to a lifetime of discomfort and suppressed anger.

Molly pressed her face into her pillow and screamed until her face was hot and no air left in her lungs.

It didn’t help much. But it was enough to get her out of bed and put on a straight face for Julie.  
  


 ~oOo~  
  


Luckily for both Sherlock and Molly, they hardly saw each other during the following weeks. Molly busied herself with creating a new home for Julie and herself and Sherlock spent most of his time with his daughter until she started at her new school. Honestly, Sherlock was fascinated how quickly they fell into a routine: Julie would go to Baker Street after school and he would bring her home when it was time for dinner. On weekends they would visit Julie’s grandparents. That was until Sherlock decided that visiting them every week was way too much and Julie made new friends at school and wanted to sleep at their house.

In short, life fell into place and became more ordinary than it had ever been for Sherlock. These tight schedules were new to him, but he got used to it. If possible he did most of his work at night now and slept (if necessary) when Julie was at school.

Mary commented on his domestication when they had breakfast at the Watsons’ house, Julie hanging out with Jamie in her room.

“So, things run rather smoothly.”

“Yes.”

“Have to be honest with you, I’m surprised how quickly you adjusted to the new situation.”

Sherlock didn’t reply, instead he stuffed another piece of bacon into his mouth. Still he noticed how John gave Mary a warning look. Instantly, he knew what was coming.

“How is she, Sherlock?”

There it was.

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask sooner”, he commented dryly and wiped his fingers on his napkin.

Mary only gave him one of her motherly looks. He rolled his eyes.

“She is fine.”

“Have you talked, I mean really talked?”

Memories. So many new memories. Made in a moving van in Paris.

“Yes.”

“So you haven’t.”  
“Mary”, John warned.

“No, John. This needs to be said. You can’t go on like this, Sherlock. You have to clear things up between you and Molly.”

“Everything is fine”, he hissed, the memories of her writhing body beneath his haunting him.

“Stop fibbing. You know it doesn’t work on me.”

“Leave the man alone, Mary. If he doesn’t want to talk to her, so be it.”  
Sherlock and Mary looked at him simultaneously. In the course of their marriage John had disagreed with his wife only six times. This was the seventh.

“Excuse me?”

John folded his arms in front of his chest and gave her a look that said it all: _I’m with Sherlock, deal with it.  
_ “We have talked about this”, Mary continued.

“No”, John corrected her, “you have talked. I didn’t say anything.”

“So you don’t think she deserves a chance to explain herself?”

“No.”

Mary looked shocked. John shrugged.

“Before this ends in a fight”, Sherlock interrupted husband and wife, “we have agreed to leave the past behind and move forward.”

Mary looked at him again.

“No. No, this isn’t right. You have to hear her out. I’ll drag you to her myself if I have to.”  
“Why do you care?” Sherlock asked impatiently.

“Because you’ve done the same thing for me.”

Silence.

No one liked to think back to the time when Mary had to shoot Sherlock and its repercussions.

Mary found her voice first.

“You risked your life to get John to talk to me. Without you we wouldn’t be sitting here. Now is my chance to repay you. You knew how important it was for us to talk back then, why can’t you see it now?”

Sherlock clenched his jaw.

“Because the circumstances are different.”

“No they’re not.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“John still loved you.”

Again, silence. Mary stared at him.

“You don’t love her anymore?”

Her voice sounded wounded, shocked, hurt even. It stirred the anger lurking in the shadows.

“Can I love a woman who’s left me like that? No, I can’t. Not after twelve years and finding out she raised our child without me.”

Beaten, Mary fell back in her seat and stared at her plate.

“I’m sorry. I had no idea you felt this way.”  
“It’s fine,” he replied casually, trying to calm his thundering heart. To appear unaffected by their conversation Sherlock helped himself to another strip of bacon before he rose.

“John, put on your coat. We have work to do. Thanks for watching Julie…and breakfast”, he said to Mary, who only nodded.

A silent Mary was always a disturbing sight, so he hurried to Jamie’s room to say goodbye to the girls.

After a knock he opened the door, finding them both sitting on Jamie’s bed playing cards.

“I’m off now”, he announced and Julie hopped off the bed to give him a hug.

“Be careful”, she said as always and smiled up at him.

“Always”, he replied and kissed the top of her head. Then he winked at his god-daughter, who answered with a nod and a smile.

Then he was gone, John following on his heels.

“Thanks for your help back there”, Sherlock said after they had found a cab.

“Don’t mention it. It’s none of our business what you do. As long as Julie is happy, everything is fine.”  
His thoughts exactly.

“I have to say, it’s a nice change of pace to have you on my side.”

The boys smiled at each other.

“Don’t get used to it”, John grinned.

   
~oOo~

 

“I want to invite her over.”

John closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He loved his wife to death, but this woman had to let it go.

“Mary, drop it.”  
“I can’t. It’s just not right. You remember how happy they were, how Sherlock had blossomed at her side. He loved her, John.”  
“Yes, ‘loved’. Past tense. She’s broken his heart and he got over her. It happens.”

She shook her head, pacing the kitchen floor.

In the end she put her hands on her hips and faced him.

“I want to hear what she has to say. I want to see them together. I have to know they truly are at peace with what happened.”  
“Why?”

“Julie! If her parents hate each other it will have an effect on her. Soon she’ll hit puberty and then she’ll need her parents to be their psychological best. Any old baggage will weigh down on her, too. Children are emphatic to their parents, John. Subconsciously they feel that something is off and sooner or later someone snaps. Julie will get hurt, as well as those thickheads. We have to prevent this from happening.”

John sighed. Some things she said were right. But he still thought it a stupid idea to bring them all together.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to gather them around this table and make them play family.”  
“They are family.”

“No, they’re not. They are parents to a girl. Other than that they have nothing that connects them.”  
“What stronger connection could there be?”

“How about love?”

Mary sighed.

“I don’t want to believe that he doesn’t love her anymore.”

“Please, Mary, let this go”, John tried calmly and pulled her into an embrace, “it is none of our business.”

She rested her head on his shoulder and hugged him back.

“I hate the thought that we have to carry on like this. Molly is finally back in London and we have to give Regent’s Park a wide berth so we don’t accidentally run into her.”  
“When are we ever at Regent’s Park?”

She laughed.

“You know what I mean. It feels wrong to avoid her.”  
“Then don’t.”  
She looked up.

“I don’t think Sherlock would mind if you talked to her, as long as it isn’t about their relationship.”

“Do you think so?”

He confirmed it with a nod. A smile spread on his wife’s face.

“Wonderful! Shall we go there tonight?”

Now John released his wife and stepped back. She recognized that look on his face and frowned. “You don’t want to see her.”  
He looked away. “No. If you’ll excuse me.”  
“But John!”

He left.

His wife was about to follow him when it hit her.

“Oh.” 


	17. Chapter 17

One by one, Molly met her old friends during the next three weeks. Greg was the first, showing up on her doorstep as if they had seen each other yesterday. When he smiled at her and welcomed her to London, Molly burst into tears and had to be comforted by a panicking Detective Inspector. She would be forever grateful that he had made it so easy for her. And she realized how much she had really missed this charming, kind-hearted bloke who promised her to help her with anything if she needed him. Although she didn't feel to deserve suck kindness, she wiped her tears away and smiled. With Greg back in her life, London began to feel a bit more like home.

Next, Molly bumped into Mary in a supermarket. It felt like a scene from a chick flick, shopping carts crashing into each other, shocked looks, then laughter. If Molly didn't know any better she'd think Mary had staged this reunion. However, she was glad to see her. She, too, didn't mention the past, which made Molly wonder. She had been so sure Mary would put her in her place, but nothing. Just a renewed offer of friendship. Proudly, Mary showed her pictures of her daughter. Jamie had grown up to be a beautiful girl with the nose of her father and the cheeky smile of her mother. Mary laughed when Molly pointed it out. In the end, they exchanged numbers and made plans for coffee which were changed to cocktails a second later.

These two positive surprises gave Molly enough courage to go to Barts to see Mike Stamford. He nearly ran into a wall when he saw her. As it turned out, no one had informed him that she was back in town and had a lot of explaining to do in Mike's office. Even though she stammered and her cheeks were burning throughout, it felt good to explain, to talk about what happened, leaving out too private details, of course. It also felt good to see Mike's expression changing from cool, to interested, to understanding. “I just wished you'd called”, was all he said after she had finished. She had sent her notice via e-mail, enclosing the sick note her gynecologist had given her; it had been rude and uncooperative. “So do I”, did she reply honestly.

Life began to tick normal for Molly. Since she was too embarrassed to ask Mike for a job and she couldn't find any decent openings in her profession, she took up a waiting job in a small sandwich shop. It was part-time and she could work while Julie was at school. Furthermore, it gave her something to think about. Hanging around at home slowly drove her insane. Then she thought about Sherlock only being a few streets away, thought about their night of insanity and how to deal with it. So far, she came up with nothing. When Sherlock brought Julie home they weren't looking into each other’s eyes, speaking only the necessary. Maybe they hoped over time it would simply disappear from their memory. Deleted from their hard drive, as Sherlock would say.   
  
  


Truth was, it wouldn't go away. This much she knew. It had been too intense, too desperate, too wonderful to be forgotten. At least for Molly. For a brief, fleeting moment, they had been Sherlock and Molly again. The consulting detective and the pathologist, two fools who were unable to handle their emotions. Why was she always at such a loss when it came to him? Only he could do this to her, stir those deep, burning feelings inside her. That night in the van had shown her that this hadn't changed; no, not at all. She was still utterly and completely his.   
  
  


A melancholic chuckle left her throat, her heart aching as the thought went through her head. _His. Always._

If only she was foolish enough to say it, to stop him in the hallway and tell him that she had never stopped loving him, that it broke her heart every day that she had left him.

If only he would be foolish enough to believe her.

If only he would let her explain that she left because she couldn't bear the thought that he would turn his world upside down for her and their baby. That she had had no doubt he would do it. Just for them; changing his entire way of life, give up cases, his experiments...everything he loved. She knew he would have within the blink of an eye. And it would have destroyed him, slowly, day by day he would resent her more and more...

Molly wiped a tear off her cheek and wrapped the blanket close around her.

If only he would see that it was better now, him being older, having lived a life of mystery and adventure, countless puzzles for him to solve. This was what had made him happy then. He had been young and restless; he wouldn't have wanted to be a dad, anyway.

...If only she could believe that herself.

Molly stared into her mug of tea, images of Sherlock floating in the brown liquid, carrying Jamie, playing with her, singing to her, even changing her, just looking at her holding his finger tightly in her little hand...

A sob left her throat.

_No, no, no, don't do this_ , her inner voice begged desperately, _you've spent years convincing yourself you did the right thing. Do not falter now! You did the right thing. You did it for Julie. And Sherlock. For both of them. You didn't ruin their lives. You did not ruin the chance of being a family!_

Molly put the mug down and covered her face with her hands, crying so hard she could hardly breathe.

She knew it was of no use. Whether or not she had done the right thing was of no importance. The past couldn't be undone. There were no second chances, no matter how much she begged for one. All this crying got her nowhere, so she forced herself to stop, almost suffocating doing so. But, as always, she managed. If there was one thing she knew it was how to stop crying. She had shed a lot of tears in her life. And it had never done her any good.

All she could do was to focus on the future. She had to decide how her life would continue.

So she tried to focus on that.

_A job._

_A home._

_Repay Mycroft the rest of his money._

_Providing for Julie._

_Making her happy._

_Normality._

_Friends._

_...love._  
  
Instantly, she felt sick and those damned tears worked their way back into her eyes.

_Finding someone to love. And who loved her back._

…

_Someone who was not...Sherlock._

She bumped her head against the wall, trying to blend out the ache in her heart.

_Not Sherlock._

_Someone new._

_Not Sherlock._

_Not him._

_Someone who could love her._

_...Not Sherlock._

  
She closed her eyes and tried to imagine a face. A new face. With kind eyes and a cheerful smile. With blond, short hair, maybe. Big eyes and thin lips.

Nausea spread in her belly.

She ignored it. Instead she tried to imagine being on a date with Mr Kind-eyes, maybe in a pub, drinking wine, having silly conversations about silly little nothings. Being excited and uncomfortable at the same time. These moments of awkward silences while both try to come up with a new silly topic to talk and giggle about. Always trying to be funny and charming. Testing out chemistry by accidentally touching each other; maybe the hands or possibly the knees.

Absentmindedly, Molly put her hand on her queasy stomach and gently rubbed it.

_Sparks fly, more smiles and eye contact. No, not too long or he'll think you're a loony. Sharing a cab. Again, knee contact and silly giggles. Then at the door another awkward moment. Then he bents down and you lift your chin, you meeting him halfway. Close your eyes and wait for his lips. Kiss. Strange, unfamiliar. Warm. Moist. Maybe too moist. Maybe too dry. Pressure, a nibble. Tongue..._

Molly's eyes snapped open.

_Oh God!_

Knocking over the tea mug Molly jumped up from her cosy bench by the window and ran to the bathroom. She barely made it before breakfast got hurled out of her rebelling stomach.

“Okay”, Molly gasped when it was over, “we'll focus on the other stuff on the list, first.”  
  
  


~oOo~

  
  
Despite the compromise she had offered, her stomach continued to be queasy the rest of the day. She was drinking her seventh cup of camomile tea when Julie was brought home.

“Hey mum!” Julie greeted her cheerfully.   
“I did and experiment with dad today. We analysed nail polish. And when we were done dad painted my fingernails. Look!”  
Julie held out her hands proudly when Molly came to meet them in the hallway.   
“So much for telling her it was you who painted them”, Sherlock commented dryly.  
“Oops. Sorry.”  
Molly couldn't help but smile as she inspected the pink polish on her daughter's nails.  
“That's very well done, actually.”  
She glanced at Sherlock who had a hint of colour in his cheeks.  
“I am very precise...in everything I do.”  
Julie rose on her tiptoes, one hand next to her mouth.  
“He used to paint Jamie's nails.”  
Sherlock glared at his daughter.   
“That little traitoress”, he mumbled under his breath.   
Julie giggled.  
“Sorry, dad.”  
“Go wash your hands, Julie, dinner is ready in ten.”  
“Good idea. There's that storm cloud over his head again. Bye, dad.”  
“Bye, Julie. And there is no cloud!”  
Molly smiled. Seeing them banter was heart-warming; as was the thought of Sherlock painting the girls' nails.   
He cleared his throat and straightened, folding his hands behind his back. So typical.  
“It was for an experiment.”  
Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her. She had spoken these words with him, having heard them so many, many times.  
She couldn't help but giggle, too exhausted from her day to keep ignoring him.  
For one moment she imagined the hint of a smirk lingering at the corner of his lips. Then the look in his eyes changed and they did a quick scan of her body, analysing.   
“I'm fine.”  
“You look pale.”  
“Again, I'm fine.”  
Surely, she was just imagining it, but she thought she saw worry flicker in his eyes.   
A spark of hope. Oh, that traitorous spark, making her say silly things.  
“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

His eyes instantly turned cold and he cleared his throat.

“No...thanks. I...have work to do.”

“Of course. Sorry. Well, goodbye then. See you tomorrow.”

When he's gone, she squeezed her eyes shut and banged her forehead against the door.

_Silly! Silly, silly, silly!_


	18. Chapter 18

Unfortunately, the nausea wouldn't go away even after three days. Molly didn't understand what was wrong. She hadn't thought about another man or ate anything questionable. After staying away from fish and fat for a week, this nauseating feeling was still there and Molly was fed up with it. After powering through work she went to see a doctor, describing her symptoms.   
Dr Patel listened patiently before she folded her hands on her table.   
“Well, we could run some tests, of course, but ruling out the simplest reason first: Any chance of being pregnant?”  
Molly laughed.  
“No, that's impos-”  
  
Molly's eyes widened with shock.   
  
_Oh my God._  
  
Dr Patel spoke to her, but Molly could barely hear her over the blood rushing through her ears. She was unable to produce a thought until a little plastic cup was placed in her hand.  
“Dr Patel, I'm too old.”  
The doctor gave her a comforting smile.   
“Don't worry. With enough precautions and a healthy diet there is no reason why you shouldn't have a healthy baby.”  
She was pregnant. Of course. Now that the doctor had pointed it out, it was so obvious. She had had the same symptoms when she had been pregnant with Julie.

_A baby._

_Another baby._

Molly pressed her hands on her flat belly.

Like the first time, Molly instantly fell in love with her unborn child. Her maternal instincts kicked in and the wish to protect this child from harm filled her to the point where she was on the edge of panic. It had been so difficult the last time. Now she was older, her body less strong. She had to be careful. So careful. No stress. No stress. No negativity. Happy thoughts. Only happy thoughts.   
_Calm. Stay calm!_  
“Miss Hooper? Are you all right?”  
Molly was breathing hard.   
_No, no! Stay calm. No stress. It's bad for the baby. It's bad for the baby! Breathe! Breathe! Slow down your heartbeat! You're poising your child! Focus! Focus!  
_ “Regina! Come in here! Patient having an anxiety attack!”

_Molly couldn't breathe._

_She was killing her baby!_

_She had to calm down!_

_Calm down!_

_Blood. So much blood. Cries of pain and despair! Her mother's cramping body!_

_She is losing it!_

_She is losing it!_

_She can't help her!_

_Mummy!_

_Mummy!!!_   
  
  


Darkness.

 

~oOo~

  
  
On her cab ride home Molly felt thrown back thirteen years. The thrill, the fear, the happiness, the nausea. She couldn’t believe that this was happening. How could she deserve such a blessing?

After Dr Patel had recommended a gynaecologist to her she had actually called her colleague for an emergency appointment (for which Molly would forever be grateful), and the wonderful Dr Khan had taken an hour to talk to her, to calm her down and to ensure that even with Molly’s medical history she could have this baby. Molly had instantly felt comfortable with her and was sure that with her help, everything would be fine. Molly would be even more careful this time. No stress, just happy thoughts, watch her diet and take the Vitamin supplements Dr Khan had prescribed. She would endure the nausea and the weakness happily. And when it would be time for birth she would fight with all her soul. She could do this.

Also, she would not make the same mistakes this time. She would not run away. And most importantly, she would tell Sherlock.

Her heart began thundering when she thought about this.

This time, she would sit down with him. And she would tell him all. Now that he wasn’t in love with her anymore, it wouldn’t hurt him.

To make sure this baby was safe they had to lay their cards on the table. Well, she had to. He just had to listen. They needed to make a new start, find a respectful, hopefully even friendly common ground. He had to find it in his heart to forgive her. If not for her then for his child.

_A baby!_

She was so bloody happy she actually laughed out loud in the cab, ignoring the worried glance of the driver.

Life was growing inside her again!

_Can you see me, mum? It’s happening again! Look at me! Isn’t it wonderful?_

  
~oOo~ 

  
In order not to rush things, Molly drove home first. She concluded that it would be best to prepare, maybe make a list of all the things she wanted to explain. Molly Hooper liked to be prepared.

As she got out of the cab, she spotted a black Mercedes in front of her house. Molly sighed.

_Of course._

Not bothering with stopping, she directly walked to the front door. The car door was opened and the familiar tapping of a certain umbrella was heard. Molly let herself into her home and left the door open, hanging her jacket on the rag and walking straight into the kitchen to get some water. Footsteps approached behind her.

“A cup of tea?” she asked casually.

_No stress, Molly. Just be cool. Or crystal, as Julie would say._

“No, thank you. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t flee the country again.”  
 _Unbelievable, this man._

Molly took a big gulp of water.

“Don’t worry. I won’t make that mistake again.”

Mycroft’s face was a mask as always, his grey eyes analysing her.

But wait. There was something off with his face. Was it…worry? No, that’s impossible. Mycroft Holmes didn’t care.

“So you are keeping the baby.”

He tried to sound casual, but the little shift in his position gave him away. He indeed was worried.   
For Sherlock?   
He wouldn’t even know if she decided to abort.   
For her?   
Yeah, right.   
Could it be?   
Was Mycroft worried…about her unborn child? Did Molly finally find out his secret? Did Mycroft Holmes, the man who had taught Sherlock that love was weakness and that all hearts were eventually broken, that he loved children?!

Well, Julie certainly loved him. Molly had always assumed that he just put on a good face in order to not scare her and to not piss off Sherlock. Could it be that he had been himself? That he genuinely cared for her daughter, his niece?

With this realization, the anger she had felt towards him all those years vanished. A weight was lifted off her heart. Mycroft didn’t play games with her. He had been trying to do the right thing all this time. Just like her, he had made a mistake in that cheap hotel room in Paris.

Molly smiled at him. Mycroft’s eyes widened just a tiny bit.

“Yes, I am keeping the baby.”

Tension left his body and Molly had to fight the urge to hug him.   
  
_Look at you, you cold and scary man. Despite all your convictions, you love._  
  
  


“If this is the case, I will make arrangements. The second floor will be yours. This flat is far too small for three people. I will contact a contractor and get an estimate on a skylight. After the baby is born, of course. You will need the best care. I will make appointments with suitable doctors.”

Boy, yesterday she would have punched him in the face for this attempt to control her. But now that she understood that this was the only way he knew how to help, she couldn’t help it: She found it adorable.

Putting her glass down, she walked over to him and actually dared to take his hand. Mycroft immediately stiffened at the contact, but he didn’t pull his hand away, so Molly assumed it was okay. She smiled up at him, her eyes wet.

“I know you want to help, Mycroft. Thank you for that. Really. But what would really help me is if we could leave our past disagreements behind. I don’t want your money. Nor do I want Sherlock’s. All I want from you is to love Julie and the baby that is coming.”

Mycroft remained silent for longer than she had ever witnessed. His eyes wandered to her belly, then to their joined hands. He looked...helpless.

“I know I demand a lot”, she added and he looked at her again, “but I know you can do it. You do already. Julie adores you and I am certain whether it will be a boy or a girl, they will adore you, too.”

She saw Mycroft swallow. If she had known any better she could have sworn his eyes were wet.

After another moment, Mycroft cleared his throat and retreated his hand.

“Well, I can try to provide that, too. But you should at least see my doctors.”

“I have a good doctor. I trust her. She has great experience with late pregnancies. But if it will calm you, you can do one of your background checks…You already have, haven’t you?”

The look in his eyes gave it away.

Molly giggled and shook her head. She was so happy and relaxed now. This time, she wouldn’t be alone. This aloof man would make sure her baby would come to no harm.

“Stay for tea”, she invited him, which caused another surprised expression flash across his face.

“I’m not very good at making small talk, Dr Hooper”, he reminded her while she was already reaching for the kettle.

“Believe me, I remember. No, we need to discuss the layout of the second floor.”

“You just said you didn’t want my help.”

Molly shrugged.

“Changed my mind. I know it will make you happy, so…”

“Happy?!” Mycroft burst out and Molly had to suppress a laugh.

“Oh, stop it, Mycroft. We both know you will help, regardless if I want it or not. Instead of doing it in secret, why not do it openly this time and receive a bit of gratitude?”

“I don’t need gratitude from you, Doctor Hooper.”

She sighed.

“Don’t you think it’s about time you call me by my first name? After all I am the woman who gave you a niece and will give you another one, if not a nephew.”

Mycroft tilted his head back and looked down his nose in that typical manner of his. She didn’t understand why he kept trying to intimidate her, but whatever.

“Molly”, he finally said and the smile she gave him upset him greatly, she could see it. Oh, there was a lot of teasing in their future, Molly could see it clearly.

Once again she shook her head and prepared their teas while Mycroft made a quick call to cancel an appointment.

It was the first time these two said down and had a long, fruitful conversation. He would never admit it but Molly saw clearly that he loved making plans for his unborn niece or nephew. Actually, he had some great ideas.

“Will you come help painting?” she asked at one point, unable to not tease him. “We could cut three holes in a rubbish bag so you don’t soil your suit. And one of those newspaper hats, maybe.”

The look she gave him made her giggle. The image was just too hilarious.

“I already regret getting on first name basis”, was his only comment.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to insult you, it’s just…I’m so happy. Not in a million years did I think I’d have a child. And now I’ll have two…”

Her hands lay on her belly and she beamed at him.

Mycroft’s expression softened.

“For what it’s worth…Julie is remarkable. You are a good mother. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”  
A knot formed in her throat.

“You mean Sherlock.”

“Yes. He’s angry, Molly. If he says anything-“

“He already has. The night it happened.”

He frowned.

“How did him insulting your parenting skills lead to sex?”

Molly had never heard him say this word before. It was weird, to say the least.

She could only shrug.

“One moment we were yelling at each other and the next we were kissing and-”

“No need to say more”, Mycroft interjected loudly and caused Molly to giggle. “I shouldn’t have asked. Your relationship has always been a mystery to me.”

The smile on her face vanished.

“You always thought I wasn’t good enough for him.”

He saw that he had hurt her and for the first time, he tried to make amends.

“No. It had nothing to do with your worth, Miss…Molly. On the contrary. Sherlock was a broken man when you met him. I admit I thought you weren’t strong enough to endure the pain that comes with loving a Holmes. You proved me wrong. I have only been wrong once before, so you understand this is not easy for me to come to terms with.”

“Was I strong enough? I ran away…”

Wow, she couldn’t believe she had said that. Never had she spoken to anyone about this, mainly because there had been no one who knew Sherlock, who might have an answer to this question. But if anyone could give her one, it was his brother.

“Sometimes being strong means to leave.”

They looked at each other and tears welled up in Molly’s eyes. She pressed her lips together; she didn’t want to cry in front of Mycroft.

To her surprise, Mycroft placed a hand on hers and this time, Molly stiffened.

He didn’t look at her, didn’t say anything for a moment. But Molly understood. He opened up. He was vulnerable.

“Not all the blame is on you. It was my fault, too. We both thought he wasn’t ready for such a drastic change. I ensured that you wouldn’t go back. I thought… it was more important for him to be a consulting detective than a father…He can be a father later, I thought. London needs him now. All he misses is diapers and sleepless nights.”

Molly could only stare at him, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. That he would admit such a thing to her…that he told her he had been wrong, too…it meant the world to her.

“Thank you”, she whispered.

Mycroft glanced up and as he saw that she was crying he pulled out a handkerchief.

An awkward moment passed when Molly had to blow her nose in front of Mycroft Holmes. After she had dried her tears, she took a deep breath.

“Sorry.”

“There is no need to apologize. We have to leave the past mistakes behind and focus on the present.”

“I know. I’m trying. If Sherlock could only forgive me we could start anew. Maybe even become friends again. I don’t want our relationship to be what it is now, this uncomfortable awkwardness is killing me, acting like we hardly know each other. I wish he would just get it all out, yell at me if he must. Everything that will help him to make his peace with it. Is that a terrible thing to ask?”

She certainly felt bad saying it out loud.

“No. You have a child together. Sherlock has to get a hold of himself. He has let you suffer enough now. I will talk to him.”

“Oh, please don’t.”

Mycroft straightened.

“He is my brother.”

“Yes, I know”, Molly hurried to say. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not very good at talking to him.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Yup, he had taken it the wrong way.

“Please don’t be mad. Just think about it for a second. When has Sherlock ever done the thing you wanted him to do? You know it only makes him do the opposite. He is a stubborn child when it comes to you. Uh, unless that has changed in the past years.”

“No, it’s still the same”, Mycroft admitted after a second.

“I really think it’s best if I talk to him, first. But I promise to call you if he continues to be difficult.”

She tried a little smile.

Mycroft took a deep breath.

“Fine”, he agreed and Molly thanked him.

She thanked him again when they were standing by the door, Mycroft about to leave.

“You’re welcome…Molly.”

They shared a smile. Well, she smiled and he lifted one corner of his mouth. It was a start.

“And congratulations.”

After Molly had closed the door, she stared at the white varnished wood.

Had she just become friends with Mycroft Holmes?


	19. Chapter 19

The expectant mother allowed herself two days of preparation to tell the expectant father. She had already quit her job and ordered several books her doctor had recommended on late pregnancy and stress during pregnancy. It’s been twelve years; science luckily had made some progress with that. At the moment, the books were hidden under her bed. Julie still didn’t know. Molly wanted to tell Sherlock first. Not that she didn’t trust her daughter to keep quiet about it; it was more that she feared Sherlock would somehow deduce it just by looking at her.   
Okay, that wasn’t all of it. She also hadn’t told Julie because she couldn’t estimate how her daughter would react to the news. Of course Molly hoped she would be happy, but she wasn’t sure. Julie enjoyed having all of Sherlock’s attention so much and she very well deserved it. She didn’t want her to feel neglected because of the new baby, so Molly had added this to the list of things she wanted to talk to Sherlock about.

An opportunity arose in the morning, when Julie texted her mother asking if she could spend the night at a friend’s house, meaning she wouldn’t be with Sherlock in the afternoon.   
Molly took her time getting ready, pulling on the red trousers and buttoning the white blouse extra slowly. After several minutes of pondering she decided to not put on the matching red vest and put on a grey slipover instead.  She realized she was being silly when she spent ten minutes messing with her hair, trying different hair styles. It was a bob, for goodness sake.

_Just put a little gel in it and let’s go!_

So she did. Literally. Instead of taking a cab she walked to Baker Street, her hands buried in her favorite camel coat, taking deep breaths of fresh winter air.

When she entered the street, she stopped and gulped. Spontaneously, she pulled out her phone and fired off a text to Mycroft, letting him now she was going to tell Sherlock now.

Of course he didn’t reply, but her messenger signalled that he had read the message. Oddly enough, it helped. She felt a little less alone now.

“Okay, Molly. You can do this. Stay calm. Check off your list. Let him yell. It all will be okay.”

Nodding to herself, she went on, her cheat slip gliding through her fingers. She knew it by heart, still it felt good to have it ready.

One more deep breath, then she rang the bell.

No one opened.

_Yay!_

_Darn!_

_I should go._

_No!_

It had to be done today. She would just wait for him.

Getting out the key she had never given back she let herself into the warm house. Voices greeted her, coming from upstairs. Many voices.

_Oh boy._  
  
They were all there. John, Mary, Mrs. Hudson, a girl’s voice which probably was Jamie, Greg and even Sally Donovan, no, sorry, Sally Lestrade.

_What to do?_

She couldn’t tell him in front of everyone. She should go.

_No, no, no!_

She would not do this to him. Every day he didn’t know would make him even angrier.

It had to be to-bloody-day.

Nodding again, Molly walked up the stairs.

The first few steps were quick, energetic. But as the voices grew louder, her steps got slower.

When she reached the top of the first flight of stairs, Molly felt set back in time.

The flat had been busy the first time…

Life really had a weird sense of humour.

Hesitantly, Molly climbed up the rest of the stairs, her feet feeling heavy as stones.

God, it really was thirteen years ago. People walking back and forth, arguing, gesturing. It was noisy and chaotic. Molly was speechless and overstrained with the situation.

Just like back then her eyes found Sherlock in the crowd, sitting at his desk on his laptop, ignoring them all.

_Look at me, Sherlock. This time, look at me._

Her heart fluttered when he actually did. His eyes gave her the expected scan, then he looked away.

But he had looked at her.

The curse was broken.

Stepping from the doorway into the living room, one by one the voices died and in the end, all eyes were on her.

It was only a bit unnerving.

She nodded at Sally and smiled at Jamie and gave John a little wave. He looked away, his jaw clenched. Molly was taken aback. She didn’t know why it hurt that he ignored her, but it did. Somehow she had expected he would forgive her as easily as Mary had. They had been so close back then.

“What do you want?” did Sherlock ask icily, his rich voice ripping the silence apart.

Molly flinched.

Greg made a step forward, ready to be at her side, but Molly gave him a quick smile to reassure him she was okay.

She was opening her mouth to speak when a movement in the corners of her eyes distracted her and she turned her head, spotting Mycroft in the doorway to the kitchen.

“How did you get here so fast?”

She was totally baffled. She had texted him five minutes ago, standing on Baker Street. Did he beam himself here?

“I already was here, Molly.”

“Molly?!”

Now all of them flinched, except Mycroft. He was used to Sherlock’s outbursts.

“Sherlock”, Mary warned. The consulting detective ignored it.

“Since when do you call her _Molly_?” he asked in a tone that lowered the temperature of the room.

Mycroft took his time answering.

“She’s the mother of your child, brother dear. It’s appropriate.”

“It is not appropriate”, Sherlock insisted. Molly had no idea why. But it didn’t matter. Sherlock was obviously in a foul mood and she had the feeling that it wouldn’t improve by her standing there, irritating him.

“Sherlock, could I talk to you…in private?”

She glanced around, smiling apologetically.

Boy, she wished they would stop staring at her. She was feeling like a school girl. Her cheeks were burning, undoubtedly flaming red.

“Is something wrong with Julie?”

“Oh, no. She’s fine. It’s, eh, something else.”

“Then you may not. I have a case.”

“No, you don’t”, Mary objected. “You won’t take that case.”

“That’s right”, John chimed in.

And then the debate began anew.

Huh, a debate about Sherlock not taking a case. That was new.

She looked at Mycroft for help, who came to stand by her side.

“Sherlock insists of taking up a case that will throw him in the line of fire of the Russian mob and would cause his inevitable death within a month.”

“It will not cause my inevitable death”, Sherlock snapped.

Mycroft lifted his eyebrow.

“Maybe three weeks with this reckless attitude.”

“Mycroft is right. Those people are too dangerous, Sherlock”, Greg tried to reason.

“They have manipulated me for the past year and a half”, Sherlock hissed and began typing again.  
“As it turns out, the mob has used his skills to dig up old enemies by setting up cases for him”, Mycroft explained to Molly.

“Clever”, Molly couldn’t help but comment.

Sherlock glared at her. So did John.

“What about Julie?” Jamie now asked, “Do you want her to grow up without a father after she just discovered she has one?”

Sherlock slammed his fist on the table and silenced them all.

“I will not die. I am cleverer than all of them. I will bring them down, something you all have failed to do.”

He looked at Mycroft, Greg and even Mary; for a reason Molly couldn’t understand.

“It seems that his only child is not enough for him to be reasonable. If only there was a bit...more motivation”, Mycroft said and looked at Molly expectantly.

Sherlock threw mental daggers at his heart.

“Leave Julie out of this. You of all people.”

That hit.

Molly saw the hurt flash up in Mycroft’s eyes. Only a second, but it was there. And it hurt her, too. She was so fed up with Sherlock’s snide comments. Why did he have to do this? Why couldn’t he just straight up say that he hated them? Why did he always have to be such a brat? Why couldn’t he listen? Just fucking once! Gosh, it made her so fucking mad!

“I’m pregnant!”

_Shit._

She had said that out loud, hadn’t she?

They were all gaping at her.

Yup, she had said that out loud.

She looked at Sherlock.

His eyes widened with each second and his lips parted.

Molly’s heartbeat went crazy.

“Nonchalantly done”, came Mycroft’s dry comment.

“I’m sorry, is this thirteen years ago?” John asked sarcastically and was nudged in the ribs by both his wife and daughter.

“When the hell did that happen?” Greg asked, baffled.

In a moment of insanity, Molly was about to reply. Luckily she was able to snap her mouth shut before she could make an even bigger fool of herself.

“Out.”

Molly looked up, tears in her eyes.

Sherlock glared at her.

She couldn’t breathe. Her chest was nothing but flaring pain.

_Please don’t send me away like this_ , she begged him with wide eyes.

“Not you. All of you! Get out! Now!”

Mrs Hudson was the first to flee, the others following one by one. Molly didn’t look at any of them.

Greg and Mycroft were last.

“Do you have this under control?” Greg asked Sherlock, a serious look on this face.

“Yes.”

“I swear to God, Sherlock, I will lock you up and throw the key away.”

The men exchanged glares.

“It’s fine, Greg. Really.”

The DI looked at Molly, then nodded and followed the others.

“You better get out now, Mycroft, or I swear-“

“What?” Mycroft interjected, challenging him.

“Mycroft,” Molly pleaded.

To her surprise he looked at her, then nodded.

“Very well.”

Addressing his brother, he picked up his umbrella.

“This is your chance to prove me wrong, brother dear. I advise you take it.”

“I don’t need your advice. Get. Out.”

Sherlock always wanted to have the last word. To keep the peace, Mycroft let him have this little triumph and with a last encouraging look at Molly, he left.

  
  


Now they were alone and the anger sizzling through the air of the living room slowly dissolved.

Sherlock rose from his chair and for a long moment, he stared at her belly.

He looked lost. And confused.

Molly gnawed at her bottom lip.

His face was blank. She couldn’t see if he was happy or mad or felt anything at all.

Her heart was beating irregularly and the knot in her throat hindered her at swallowing easily.

If he would just say something. Anything. He was so far away, even as they were standing in the same room, finally being alone after so many weeks.

It took him a felt eternity to look her in the eyes.

He gulped.

“It was only once.”

Bittersweet memories of that passionate night flashed in front of her eyes. She would cherish them forever.

“Well, it’s all that’s needed, really”, she replied nervously.

“I didn’t think about…I didn’t think at all.”

Sherlock’s hands twitched helplessly.

“Neither did I.”

A shy smile played around her lips.

Too late did she realize it was a mistake.

His eyes turned cold again and he straightened. Once again he pulled back, retreated behind his wall of anger.

Molly wanted to curl up and cry.

“Back to Paris, then?” he asked and his sarcastic tone cut into her heart.

_Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Stay strong. Say what you have to say. Calm. Deep breath._

“I won’t leave”, she reassured him, her voice not as steady as she had wanted it to be.

“Don’t have money for the ticket?”

God, he could be insufferable.

“Stop it, Sherlock. Just. Stop.”

“Maybe it is not even my child. Maybe it’s Eric Frenchman’s.”

If she had been close enough, she would have slapped him.   
With each word out of his mouth it got more difficult to stay calm. Over and over did she tell herself not to snap back like last time or they would hurt each other even more.

“You know it’s yours”, she responded, unable to hide the shake in her voice or the tears in her eyes.

“Mine? That’s hard to believe.”

God, she couldn’t stand this sarcasm anymore. In a second she had crossed the distance between them and cupped his face with her hands. She pulled him down so he could look into her eyes and was forced to keep looking while she spoke.

“Enough, Sherlock. Don’t destroy this moment. We have a second chance. We have been blessed with this child and I want it so much. I want your child more than anything. And this time I won’t run away, not even after you said these horrible things. I will stay in London because I want you to hold your baby in your arms the moment it is born. I want you to feel this divine love when you look at your child for the very first time. It will change you forever. I know I’ve made mistakes. I know I did a terrible thing and I will hate myself for the rest of my life for taking Julie away from you. I was overwhelmed and scared and I panicked. And when I realized what a horrible thing I’ve done…”

She shook her head, her voice cracking up.

Suddenly, he gripped her upper arms. His glasz eyes were burning with pain.

“Why didn’t you come back?” he whispered desperately, his face showing her all the heartbreak she had put him through.

Molly needed a second to get her voice under control. Her tears were streaming freely now.

“Because I was scared. I was so scared you’d send me and Julie away. I didn’t want to face the fact I already knew was true; you didn’t love me anymore. You never came after me so I-“

“You’re blaming me again?!”

He pushed her away, his face contorted with anger and pain.   
She was losing him again and that tiny, cowardly part of her wanted to run away.

But she knew what it was like to be without him. She knew how much it hurt to be separated from him. She couldn’t go through that again.

This time, she would stay strong. She would fight for him. For her baby. For herself.

“I’m not blaming you! No, it was all my fault!” she hurried to say and wanted to get close to him again, but he lifted his arms defensively, looking almost scared for a second.

Molly took a step back and lowered her arms. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to relax. This was not how it was supposed to go. She had wanted to be calm. It was time that he heard the truth, that she gave him an explanation, something that might help him understand that he had done nothing wrong.

A familiar knot formed in her throat. It was never easy for her to talk about this. Her heart was thundering, sweat spread in her palms and in her neck. More deep breaths. The numbness in the back of her head scared her, but looking at him help. He looked so angry. She knew she had hurt him so much. Once upon a time he had loved her, deeply, truly. This love might be dead now, but she still wanted to fight for it. This love deserved to know everything.

One last deep breath, then she began.

“I will tell you why I left.”

“You already told me in the moving van”, he snarled and wanted to leave.

“Not everything! Please, Sherlock. For Julie. And the baby.”

He had his back to her. His hands clenched into fists and his shoulders and neck were stiff.   
  
  


_Please don’t go. Please. Please, Sherlock. Hear me out. If you go now, the last bit that connects us will be destroyed. Please don’t cut me out. Please. Please. Please._   
  
  


Molly couldn’t help the sob that broke out of her. She was certain she would lose him. He was gone too far. He didn’t care anymore. All hope was lost for them. Forever they would be stuck in this cold, poisonous form of a relationship. Hardly being able to be in the same room, never meeting each other’s eyes…

Sherlock turned around.

Molly’s knees were about to give in, but she held herself up, clinging to the relief of him giving her a chance.

“Say what you have to say.”

He was not meeting her eyes. Molly was grateful for that. It would be hard enough to speak about this.

Wiping the tears off her face, she cleared her throat.

The numbness in the back of her head was back. She focused on the speech she had prepared for the past few days.

“I never thought I would get pregnant. My family has always been small due to a condition in our bloodline. It’s difficult for the Hooper women to get pregnant and…stay pregnant.”

Sherlock’s eyes darted up to her. His look was too intense for her, she couldn’t handle it now, so she looked at his feet.

“I never worried about contraceptives when we were together because I never thought a child would be a possibility. But then the nausea began and I went to the doctor…”

A laugh burst out of her, this feeling of gratitude and happiness forever alive in her heart.

She met his eyes again, the vision blurry.

“It was a miracle. For one moment I was the happiest person on this planet. A child. Your child…”

She closed her eyes, reliving this mass of emotions she had felt.

“I loved Julie from the very first moment. I loved her more than my life. I wanted her more than anything. Not one second did it occur to me to…”

She had to stop. The happiness was pushed away by old fears and memories of her doctor suggesting to remove her child.

“The doctor recommended it” she finally said and her voice sounded loud inside her head. “She thought I wouldn’t be strong enough. Neither my body nor my mind.”

_Blood. So much blood._

Molly had to pause again. Standing up was so difficult, her body felt like it weight a ton. She felt cold and hot, distant screams inside her head, old fear and horror making her feel sick.

“Molly.”

His voice. So strong, so beautiful. She clung to that sound, let it guide her through the darkness.

_It’s over. It’s been so many years ago. The pain is gone. Focus. This is reality. The smell of toast and honey, Sherlock and wood resin, the tobacco lingering in the furniture and this hint of ammonia. The sound of passing by cars, the ticking of the clock in the kitchen. The feeling of the fabric of your blouse and trousers on your skin. This little bit of pressure coming from the underwire of your bra._

She opened her eyes to the world again, the tears finally escaping her lids.

“When I was four my mother had a miscarriage. I was with her that day. My dad was at work and when she screamed I ran to her…there was blood everywhere. On her hands, on her trousers, the floor…I saw this...deformed-”

“Stop!”

He was there and his arms closed around her, pulling her flush against him. She soaked up his warmth and strength like a sponge.

He was all around her and she put all her focus on him, chasing those horrible memories away and replacing them with new memories of his lean body pressed against hers, his fingers weaving through her hair, carefully scratching her skull; his heartbeat against her chest, strong, so strong; his lips brushing over her forehead so tenderly…

Molly deeply inhaled his scent, still so marvellous, so familiar, so comforting.

She was safe with him; and so warm. She never wanted to let go…

 

When she felt strong enough, she continued.

“I told the doctor to stuff it and left. I felt strong and confident. I could do it. This baby would be born, I swore to myself and hopped into a cab, rushing over to you. All the way to Baker Street I imagined the look on your face when I told you. I’d seen you with Jamie, I knew you’d be thrilled.”

One more stroke of his hand through her hair, then Sherlock slowly untangled himself, checking her face to see if she was okay.

When he was sure, he stepped back.

Of course. The embrace had been of a calming nature to prevent an anxiety attack. That’s all.

“And, a lot like today, this room was buzzing with people. It was chaos. And then I was all alone of a sudden and this confidence…It left me when I looked around. Memories of my mother were in my head…she had never been the same afterwards. She had never stopped grieving my brother. That’s when I became scared. So scared. Something inside me screamed at me to protect this child at all costs. I just…snapped.”

Molly remembered.

“I still have no idea how I got to my flat. Did I take a cab? The tube? Did I run? I can’t tell you. I was just there and began packing like a madwoman. I didn’t think clearly anymore. All I could think of was my baby and that it was my duty to protect it from harm. I rushed to the airport and got on the next available flight.”

“Paris”, Sherlock said tonelessly.

“Yes. It didn’t matter. I would have flown to Sydney if that had been the next flight. I just wanted to get away from London.”

“From me.”

The swallowed down the lump in her throat and looked at him.

“Yes.”

His eyes were red. She knew if she told him that it hurt her just as much to admit this, he wouldn’t believe her.

“Mycroft found me a day later, waiting for me in the hotel room when I got back from picking up food.”

Molly hurried to progress with the story, trying to stick to the facts.

“He…offered me a house and money for the baby. I was too exhausted to fight him and accepted. I moved into the house the next day and never looked back.”

 

A heavy silence pushed them apart again.

“I didn’t tell you this to make you forgive me. I know that can’t be done. I just hope you know that I loved you, Sherlock. I really did. It hasn’t been you.”

“Just my way of life.”

Sherlock didn’t sound angry. There was no tone in his voice.

He looked out of the window, his hands in his pockets.

“I would have given it all up”, he said after a minute. “My cases, Baker Street…It wouldn’t have mattered. I would have been a good father for Julie…”, his eyes settled on her, “…and a good man for you.”

“I know”, Molly nodded, another lump in her throat.

“I doubted you”, she confessed in a whisper, biting back tears.

She saw the pain shooting through his heart, mirrored in his furrowing eyebrows and the fluttering eyelids.

“I’m sorry, Sherlock. So very sorry.”

He closed his eyes and then stared at the floor.

Now he knew everything and she hoped with every fibre of her heart that it would help him to accept the past.

For minutes she stood there, waiting.

He was holding all the cards now. With telling him everything it was up to him to decide what their future would look like.

Absentmindedly, she placed her hands on her belly. It caught his attention and his eyes lay on this place for a long while.

“I want to be the baby’s father.”

She smiled, a wave of relief washing over her.

“Starting now”, he added and she nodded.

“I want to be there for all of it.”

“Okay.”

“This time we will do this the right way.”

“Yes.”

Oh God, she was so happy. After this roller-coaster ride him being positive about the baby was everything she had hoped for.

“I will move in with you.”

She blinked.

“Wait, what?”

But Sherlock was already moving, rummaging through the living room.

“Obviously I have to move in with you. I want to be with Julie and the baby and I can’t do that living here. I won’t miss anything”, he added firmly.

Horrible scenes with Molly feeling uncomfortable in her own home flashed before her eyes.

“Sherlock…could you please wait a second?”

“For what? It’s being decided. You said yourself you want me involved. And you’ll need someone to take care of you and stop you from painting your belly all the time.”

She blushed. Yes, he was right. She had been quite depressed all by herself with nothing to do but thinking of the man she had left heartbroken and worrying about her baby. But still, living with him, after everything…no, it would be too stressful. She’d have the feeling to have to walk on eggshells all the time. If he would just stop running around, maybe she could think.

“Sherlock, please! Let’s think this through for a second.”

Her pressing tone made him stop, thank goodness.

Molly took a deep breath. A new fight was coming.

“I don’t think it is a good idea for you to move in with us.”  
Yup, the fight was coming.

Yet, she tried to stay calm and reasonable.

“Think about this. We are uncomfortable with each other. You are angry with me. And you have every right to be. But this anger will come out eventually and in my situation, it could be dangerous. The emotional stress could put our baby’s life in danger.”

There. Logic. Facts. Something Sherlock appreciated, right?

“Do you really think I’d endanger my child?”

Apparently, he didn’t.

“It wouldn’t be just you. I would do the same. I’m sorry but I’m nervous around you. I’m afraid you could snap at me at any point and it is stressful for me…Please, could we just not decide this today and think about this some more?”

“I want to be with my unborn child. There is nothing to think about. I want to see it grow inside you. I want to be at the ultrasounds, I want to be there for the first kick. I want to make sure she has everything she needs. Or he. Don’t care about the sex, I just want the baby to be healthy. Don’t worry, I will not stress you. I don’t care about the past.”

“You said so before and still snapped at me.”

“That was before the baby.”

They entered a discussion, shooting back and forth reason why and why not to move in together. The further this argument went, the more Molly had the feeling that it wasn’t only the fact that he didn’t want to miss anything that made him insist on moving.

“Do you think I’ll run off again?” she asked at one point.

“Can you blame me?”

She was taken aback.

“It’s been twelve years, Sherlock. I’ve learned from my mistake. I promise I won’t do that again to either of us.”

His jaw clenched.

“You have to trust me”, she insisted.

“You don’t trust me either.”

“That’s different!”

“No, it’s not. We finally arrived at the root of this problem. We don’t trust each other any more.”

Gosh, it hurt so much to hear him say this.

Words from oh so many years ago echoed in her mind: _‘You’ve always counted and I’ve always trusted you.’_

Once again it hit her how much she had destroyed between them.

Molly looked away. She couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes. Eyes that once had been full of love and warmth for her. Now there were just anger, mistrust and defiance.

“You are right,” she finally admitted and both of them stared at each other’s feet. “And that’s why it won’t work. Not as long as you hold this grudge against me. I know it’s unfair but you have to let this go. You have to forgive me for stealing your child and walking out on you within the blink of an eye.”

Molly phrased it like this on purpose. This time she wanted him to feel the pain so he would understand that he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t there.

“I want to forgive you”, he responded after a moment, his back half turned to her. “I want to trust you again. But you have to trust me first. I deserve this chance.”

She looked at him.

“You're right. You do.”

And with that, it was settled. Molly Hooper and Sherlock Holmes would move in together. 


	20. Chapter 20

Being told about the pregnancy had Julie more confused than anything. She knew how babies were made, but she couldn't understand how it was possible in this case, seeing as her parents weren't a couple. Needless to say both Molly and Sherlock were blushing and stammering, neither of them capable of explaining to a twelve-year old what accidental-hot-moving-van-sex was. In the end, Molly called it a sentimental moment. Julie was not convinced but let her parents off the hook since they were both so embarrassed. She would ask Jamie about it the next time she saw her. Jamie told her things grown-ups wouldn't. She was 14 and Julie felt like she knew everything.   
  
What Julie was absolutely happy about was her dad moving in with them, and she helped him pack up his things and prepare his room on the second floor whenever she was home.

 

Julie being okay with him moving gave Sherlock a green light. That was until Mary and John popped up at his flat, both giving him a lecture on how foolish this was.

“This screams disaster”, John said not for the first time.

“You should really think about this, Sherlock. Both of you could get hurt. Molly could lose the baby.”

“She will be fine as long as I'm with her”, Sherlock repeated for the third time. “I’ll be a good boy, Mary. We've talked, we're on the same page now.”

“And that would be?”

Sherlock was selecting the books he wanted to take to Regent's Park and put them in a box.

“That we both try to re-build a relationship that is founded on respect and trust.”

“You think that is possible?” John asked and Mary gave him a long look.

Sherlock shrugged.

“For my children I am certainly willing to try. Molly has changed. She knows she made a mistake and she apologized. There is nothing else she can do, unless inventing a time-machine, I guess.”

“This is not the time for jokes, Sherlock.”

“I'm not joking, John.”

The doctor exhaled and looked at his wife, telling her with his eyes it was her turn to talk some sense into him.

“It's too soon, Sherlock. You've been around each other only weeks. You are both different now. There will be tension and arguments. In Molly's condition-”

“I will not get angry around her! If something happens I will simply retreat to my room, or something.”

“Which could be just as hurtful as saying the wrong thing.”

“Give it up, Mary. We’re both adults. We have an agreement. I will not miss one moment of my child's life.”

“What about sex?” John asked loudly.

It made Sherlock freeze with a pile of books in each hand. He turned around to face him, appalled. John just shrugged.

“It happened before. Might happen again.”

He did this little head tilt he always did when he was really pissed off.

“Don't be ridiculous. It was an accident.”

John snorted.

“How can two people have accidental sex?”

Mary made a noise, but too late. Sherlock already fired.

“You should know since you had accidental sex with your separated, pregnant wife fourteen years ago. In your surgery. On the desk. And on the stretcher, I believe.”

John's eyes widened, then his head spun around.

“You told him?!”

Mary's face was a bright red and she gestured helplessly.

“He was the only one I could talk to back then! And I was confused and hormonal!”

John pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fine. Do what you want! But if this ends with your heart broken again, you better keep the smashing to your own place this time. I won't have my daughter witness her god-father go crazy.”

Sherlock paused again and looked at his best friend. After seconds, John clenched his jaw and turned his face away. Sherlock's eyes darted to Mary, who only shook her head in warning.

“I won't have my heart broken again”, Sherlock said, letting the moment pass, “because this time my heart is not invested. I only want to be with my children. It has nothing to do with Molly.”

“What about Molly's heart?” Mary now threw in.

Sherlock picked up Billy the Skull and wrapped him in bubble wrap. Paris had taught him a few things about organized packing. Their previous conversation was still alive and echoing from the walls in his mind palace; some things she had said louder than others.

“It's not invested, either.”

Now Mary snorted.

“You two are idiots. Hopeless. Do what you want. Just promise us to be careful and if you notice any difference in Molly to give her the space she needs.”

“I promise, mummy”, Sherlock said sarcastically, using his child-voice.

At this point the Watsons gave up and there was nothing in the way of his plans. He had expected Mycroft to give him a lecture as well, but he didn't show up once. Apparently, he had finally understood that Sherlock didn't want his help in this. He was convinced he was doing the right thing. He knew he could make this work. This time, he would be there for his baby.

Like Molly, he already loved it with all his heart. It was strange. A month ago his heart had been empty and now it was overfilled with love.

Two children. His children.

His biggest adventure.

 

~oOo~

  
What Sherlock didn’t know - and wouldn’t know for several years – was that Mycroft did indeed try to stop his move to Regent’s Park; he just hadn’t talked to him.

 

“To even consider this is irresponsible”, Mycroft told Molly, standing at the kitchen counter while Molly was busy cooking dinner.

“I don’t assume you would like to stay for dinner? I’m making steak with mashed potatoes, peas, carrots and a sauce that is to die for. Believe me, you’ll want to put it on everything. Even ice cream.”

For a second he made a face.

“Stop ignoring me, Molly. This is serious. I want you to stop this from happening.”

Molly sighed.

“You know, I start to get why Sherlock gets so stubborn with you. The commanding tone really gets to you.”

“Molly, you have to think of your child! Giving Sherlock what he wants will endanger your baby. The emotional stress-“

“-would be even worse if I said no.”

Great, he had made her reply. Obviously, a discussion was unavoidable. Moving from the stove to the kitchen island Molly grabbed the pea pods to crack them open with her fingers. Since she had nothing to do and it benefited the baby she made it a high priority to cook as freshly as possible.

“Sherlock wants to be with his child. I denied him once, I won’t do that to him again.”  
“You know it will be a disaster. Sherlock is still hurt and angry. Living with you, seeing you everyday will be too difficult.”

“Or we finally get a chance to make a new start. Being around each other might show Sherlock that I am truly sorry and that I’m not the same person I was twelve years ago. I have learned my lesson. I don’t want to go through another pregnancy all by myself. I’m older, my body is not as strong as it was. I need help.”

“I agree. But Sherlock is not the right person for this job. He won’t be able to control his emotions.”

Molly stopped working and looked at him.

“I had the same thought. But then I realized that it’s not fair. Don’t you see? We are making the same mistake we did back then. We are doubting him. And he doesn’t deserve this.”

This had Mycroft speechless.

“Sherlock is wonderful with Julie. And he loves her with all his heart. Of course he is hurt that he missed it all; we thought he wasn’t strong enough to make a real change...we were wrong. You said it yourself. Being a father would have been enough for him. And now he knows what it’s like. He knows what he is getting into. He has seen Jamie grow up and according to Mary he has been the best god-father a girl could have.”

“He’s taken her on a case!”

“He made a mistake. No parent is perfect. And he didn’t took her with him ever since. He’s learned a lot during the past twelve years and it benefits him in his relationship with Julie. Can you really not understand that he wants to experience what it is like to watch his own baby grow and being born; those first precious years where babies learn so incredibly fast and astonish you every single day?”

“I’m not concerned about the years to come. I am concerned about the next seven months.”

He bent forward and put a hand on hers. His eyes shone with worry and sincerity.

“Don’t do this out of guilt. I don’t want you to lose this baby.”

Molly took his hand.

“I won’t let that happen. I know it won’t be easy. But this time, I will believe in him. He is my baby’s father and he has a right to be with either him or her. Guilt has nothing to do with it.”

Mycroft looked at their joined hands for a long moment.

“It seems I can’t change your mind.”

“No.”

Their eyes met.

“Promise to contact me the second you feel unwell. I will drag him out of this house myself if I have to.”

This made Molly smile and she patted his hand.

“I have to admit, I’d love to see that. What about that dinner?”

He retreated his hand and the cool attire of Mycroft Holmes was back.

“No, thank you. I already have an appointment. But thank you for your offer.”

“Another time, then.”

He blinked, then nodded. He still wasn’t used to be on friendly terms with her, she guessed. Sooner or later, he would come round.

  
  


After Mycroft had left, Molly tried to focus on cooking. Still, the upcoming move was lurking in the back of her mind like a black wolf staring at its prey.

It would be difficult to adjust to the new living situation, no doubt. Molly had no idea what they would be doing all day. Would he work or would he sit on the couch and stare at her belly until Julie got home from school? That was a very unnerving image.   
No, that was silly. He wouldn’t do that, would he?

… _Please, God, no!_  
  
  


~oOo~

  
  
The key turned in the front door. Molly took a deep breath.

_No way back now._

“Mum! We’re here!” Julie shouted through the house.

Footsteps, boxes being put on the floor.

Molly entered the hallway, Sherlock, Julie and the Watsons were carrying boxes from a white moving van into the house. She greeted everyone and again, John only gave a cold nod and walked past her when she opened her arms, offering to take the box.

“It’s too heavy”, was his only remark.

“You’re not going to help”, Sherlock said, walking behind him.

“Sherlock, I’m pregnant, not sick.”

“Still. We have this under control. Don’t argue with me. John has been going on my nerves the whole day and I’m in no mood to discuss this.”

“What do you want me to do, then?”

He was thinking, when Jamie pushed her box against his butt.

“Um, hello? You’re standing in our way.”

“See what I have to put up with? One Watson is difficult, the whole bunch is insufferable.”  
“You’re insufferable”, Jamie shot back.

“Could we move this along, please? The box is heavy”, came a shout from Mary, who was standing behind Jamie.

Sherlock grumbled and walked on.

Jamie grinned and winked at Molly, her long blond hair falling over her shoulders.

Mary smiled, as well.

“I think there is a box with pillows and blankets in the van.”

Molly nodded and went outside to get it. She was shocked at how many boxes there still were. Apparently, she would have to make room in the rest of the flat. Originally they had agreed that Sherlock would keep Baker Street for the time being and just bring some stuff he needed.

The loading area bounced and Molly turned around. Sherlock had hopped into the van.

“I thought you just wanted to bring stuff you needed.”

“I need all this.”

“This box says dust samples.”

“So?”

He was standing next to her, in jeans and a washed out red t-shirt for a change, and Molly couldn’t stop her eyes from gliding over his lean body, the toned muscles bulged from lifting the weight of the boxes, his jeans sitting low on his hips and oh so tight.

If she only didn’t know what was hidden under these clothes; it would be so much easier to focus…

He caught her looking at him and their eyes locked.

“A-Aren’t you cold in this?” she muttered.

Was he coming closer? Was she moving closer?

“No”, came his reply and indeed, at the moment she didn’t feel the chill of winter wind at gushing into the van either.

On the contrary, she felt quite…hot and wondered if she was the only one realizing that they were alone in a moving van. Again.

“Mum! dad told you not to lift anything!”

Both of them flinched and Sherlock quickly picked up a box, not meeting her eyes.

“I can carry this box of pillows.”  
“No, I carry it. You go back inside. You can make some peppermint milk for us. I told the Watsons all about it and they are keen on trying it. Well, Jamie and Mary are. John insists he doesn’t like peppermint. I can ask him if he’d like almond syrup instead.”

“I don’t really care for your commanding tone, Miss Hooper.”

“Go!” Julie insisted and pushed her mother to the exit of the van. Molly obliged with a sigh and wanted to hop out when Sherlock held out his hand to her, balancing the box on his hip.

A tingling sensation wandered the length of her spine when she took it and jumped.

“Thank you.”

His eyes lay on her only a second, his hand tightly wrapped around hers. Sherlock had never been a fan of holding hands, especially not when they were walking around in public. He had only held her hand a few times outside the bedroom. Inside the bedroom, though, his fingers had interlaced with hers every time – if their position had allowed it.

All this shot through Molly’s head within the blink of an eye before Sherlock let go of her and walked away.

Molly began to think that this might have been a bad idea, after all. In all of the thinking she had done regarding the move she had forgotten to take into consideration that Sherlock Holmes was the most beautiful man she had ever seen and that pregnancy hormones would be driving her to a state of constant horniness.

“Oh boy”, she muttered under her breath before she went back inside.

  
  


Jamie and Julie were eager to help unpack Sherlock’s stuff, asking him about anything that seemed peculiar, which was most of it. Sherlock always explained in detail why he had bought said item and what he used it for. Yet it didn’t slow him down. He continued to unpack while talking, only stopping to take the occasional sip from his peppermint milk. He was getting fond of this drink.

John and Mary were less eager, but still helped, keeping their mouths shut. It was too late now, anyway.

Late in the evening the basic stuff was rebuilt and unpacked and Mary and John said their goodbyes, Molly once receiving a cold shoulder from John. It seemed he was angry with her for letting Sherlock move in – at least that’s what Molly figured.

Since he didn’t give her a chance to say anything before he left with his family, Molly put a mental pin on the matter. She couldn’t be bothered with this now while she was sitting in the dining room eating dinner with her daughter and their new flat mate.

Unfortunately Julie and Sherlock were chatting throughout and Molly had time to let her eyes roam over freshly showered Sherlock with still damp curls. Her fingers tingled with memories of how it felt to let it slide between them, to stroke them with her palm, to grip them firmly and pull…

Dear Lord, what was she thinking?!

For the rest of the meal she stared at the pizza.

 

Julie was completely knackered after this eventful day so Sherlock put her to bed, Molly getting a kiss from her daughter on the way to her room.

They stayed there for a long while, which gave Molly time to open the windows and clean up. It really was hot in here. And this new scent of Sherlock lingered in the air. Honey scented shower-gel. It smelled bloody delicious.

Despite all efforts it was still lingering in her nose when Sherlock came back.

“Do you need help with anything?”

“No, thank you”, she answered short-spoken and busied herself with wiping the counter so she wouldn’t have to look at him. He had put on plaid sweat pants and a blue t-shirt after the shower. He wasn’t wearing one of his typical dressing gowns…it was disturbing.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” _and retreat to your room_ , she added mentally.

“Yes. I’ll make it. I have to memorize where everything is.”

Molly couldn’t help but smirk at this. Some things never changed.

“Please don’t rearrange stuff like you did in my flat. This time around I’ll smack you. To this day I have no idea where you put the potato peeler.”

“What happened to your stuff in your flat? You only took a suitcase with you.”

Oh, they were entering dangerous waters. But Sherlock’s voice sounded casual, he was opening drawers and cabinet doors to inspect her kitchen inventory. He had his back to her and involuntarily her eyes darted down to this lovely backside of his.

She had bit that arse once. Well, twice. It had been a one of a kind morning…

A movement of his hips made her look up and their eyes met.

“Eh, sorry what?”

“Your stuff. What did you do with your stuff?”

“Oh, right. Mycroft had it packed up and sent it to me.”

“Always helpful, my brother.”

Molly bit her tongue. Better not reply anything. Instead she prepared the tea. When the kettle boiled she turned around, only to find Sherlock standing in front of her, kettle in hand. She jumped. _Too close._

_Eyes, cheekbones, mouth, body heat, smell._

Her senses had a short and she stood there like an idiot, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Excuse me”, he said in the end and Molly made a big step to the side, giggling like a crazy person.

“You are nervous”, Sherlock stated matter-of-factly while he poured his tea.

“Well, yeah.”

_Nervous, randy, whatever._

“Aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Really? Not a tiny bit? We will be sharing bed and board, well not bed, of course, I mean-“

And she was back to giggling. Oh, it was all too horrible. She hadn’t behaved this idiotically for a decade.

Frustrated and embarrassed, she exhaled loudly.

“I’m going to bed. Good night.”

Without waiting for a reply she hurried into her bedroom, hid under her blanket and swore to never get out again.


	21. Chapter 21

Of course Molly came out of bed again. The world looked always brighter after a good night’s sleep.

To be honest, Molly was shocked how easy it was to get used to living together. He had kept almost all of his old habits like the refusal to rest, the snacking, the violin playing at ungodly hours. He played a lot more than she remembered, actually. Soon she found out that it was because Julie loved to listen to him. Sometimes she even sat down and watched him while he was lost in his music. Other times he played a happy melody for her to dance to. It was beyond adorable and Molly’s heart swelled with love whenever she watched it.

Julie never woke up when he played at night; her daughter slept like a stone. And Molly was happy about that. Because at night, Sherlock played the most haunting, saddest melodies she had ever heard. It made her cry in her bed more than once listening to the yearning and this soul-crushing sadness.

These long, full notes catapulted her into the past when she had been all alone in Paris, so god damn alone, knowing no one, feeling miserable and guilty and praying for Sherlock to come and take her home.

So, the nights were hard. When he woke her with his music she was aware of his absence, the bed next to her felt particularly cold and with each night it got harder to fight the urge to walk up this one flight of stairs that separated them and throw herself into his arms.

But of course this was out of the question. She wouldn’t survive being pushed away, which he most certainly would do.

Contrary to her earlier worries, Sherlock didn’t spend much time with her during the day. He came down in the mornings to prepare himself some tea and grab some cookies (which Molly never forgot to buy. He still loved Oreos and it was another thing that made her nostalgic) before he went back up to his room again, conducting experiments. He had temporarily claimed the nursery as a laboratory, rightfully pointing out that they had at least a year before they needed it.

A year.

That seemed like such a long time.

But the days turned to weeks so fast and before she knew it, a month had passed and it was time for her next doctor’s appointment.

Sherlock was coming with her, of course.

 

Never in her life would she forget the moment he heard his baby’s heartbeat for the very first time. He was standing next to her, looking at the monitor when the doctor located the sound. He stiffened and then his face wore an expression of pure wonder. His wide eyes watered and he looked at her and for a moment all the differences between them were wiped away. In this wonderful moment he took her hand, saying nothing with words but everything with his eyes and Molly felt so loved in this moment she was on the verge of tears.

On the cab ride home she couldn’t keep her eyes off him, his face still unguarded, every feeling visible. He was absolutely overwhelmed with this experience and, as it happened for many fathers, now fully realized that he had helped creating a human being. It was a beautiful thing to watch and once again Molly felt the guilt pool in her gut; if only she could turn back time...

 

~oOo~

 

All was well. The Hooper-Holmes patchwork family had found a rhythm they were all comfortable with. In the morning they would have breakfast together, Julie would go to school, Sherlock would retreat into his lab and Molly continued to read every book on late pregnancy and stress management she could find. There was a pile of books next to the couch now. At lunchtime Molly sometimes made sandwiches and left them on the kitchen counter; most of the time she found them gone when she checked later. In the early afternoon Molly would go for a walk if the weather allowed it or she would stay indoors and worked out to a workout program for pregnant women.   
After Julie got home from school she would usually do something fun with her father. Molly adored that Sherlock always thought of activities for them, trying to make every day with her as special as possible. He spoiled her horribly, but Molly didn't interfere. Soon enough there would be a little baby in the house and neither of them would have as much time for her as they had now, so she wanted Julie to have as much fun with her dad as possible.   
Dinner was served in the cosy dining room. Although Sherlock and Molly didn't talk much it was nice to be with him, to hear him talk and laugh again (Julie was brilliant in making him laugh), to watch his eyes look at his daughter with pure adoration, to watch his soft mouth and those slender musician hands move. It were these hours that Molly felt closest to him, felt that some of their old familiarity was coming back.

 

As predicted, Sherlock soon got bored with being stuck in his laboratory all day. What Molly did not predict was that he asked to join her on her daily walk. It had her heart racing the second the words came out of his mouth. A part of her wanted to say no. With her raging hormones (she blamed her state on the scent of him that wafted through the flat despite her efforts to ventilate it) it was not easy to be around him, to look and not being able to touch; needless to say it was frustrating. But she knew she couldn’t say that to him and not make a fool of herself. Neither could she just say no without insulting him. So Molly put on a smile and agreed as cheerfully as possible.

 

It was a lovely day. The air was crisp and smelled like snow but the sun was shining bright, warming their skin. They were walking side by side, their knuckles brushing against each other for the third time. Again, an enticing shiver danced up Molly’s spine and she couldn’t help but wonder if she was the only one who was affected by this harmless body contact. Her answer came a second later when Sherlock folded his arms on his back.

“How are you feeling?” he finally asked, probably to break this awkward silence between them. Molly had almost adjusted to it and was beginning to think that it would never go away.

“I’m fine. Relaxing a lot, reading, cooking…it’s a bit dull, to be honest.”

“But no stress?”

“No. Far from it. Not seeing you makes it easier. Oh, oh my- That came out totally wrong, I’m sorry. It’s really not what I meant.”

How could she have said such an affronting thing?! Her cheeks were flaming and she was about to panic, dreading his reaction. To her surprise he just looked at her.

“Relax. I understand. It makes it easier for me, too.”

She understood, still it stung.

“Are you okay?” she asked after taking a deep breath.

Oh, how many times had she asked him that? She had lost count over the years, but she would always remember the first time in her lab at Barts, shortly before the fall.

Sherlock inhaled and let his eyes wander about the scenery of Regent’s Park.

“Yes. It’s easier than I thought it would be. Interesting. I’ve never had such regularity in my life.”

“Getting bored, aren’t you? Family life can hardly compete with your adventures.”

He glanced at her from the corners of his eyes.

“No, it’s…different, yes. But not unpleasant.”

Molly let out a little laugh and smiled up at him. His lips twitched into a smile.

“Is there anything I can do to make it even less unpleasant?” Molly asked. The little tease came out on its own. It was the sun shining so lovely.

Again, his eyes darted down to her.

“I feel bad for making you stay upstairs all the time. There is no need for that.”

“You just said there is.”

“Yes, I know. But I don’t want you to feel like a prisoner. I want you to feel at home. I know the situation is complicated, but if we want to adjust to it I think it would help if we spent some time together. Or at least be in the same room without feeling this tension.”

“Tension?”

She gave him a look.

“Come on. There is tension. There has to be. At least when we’re alone. Don’t you feel it?”

He cleared his throat.

“I suppose there is. After all, we have history.”

“Exactly. And we will never get rid of the tension if we don’t do something about it. If we could tear down this wall between us, I think it would help...Sorry, I’m rambling .”

She tried to ease her embarrassment with a giggle, but it didn’t really work.

“And you think this is a good idea? Won’t it bring up new problems?”

She shrugged, tugging at the tips of her pink gloves.

“I don’t know. It could. But I’m willing to risk it…if you want it, too. I don’t want you to feel forced.”

She exhaled.

“Boy, I’m making an arse of myself. Let me start over.”

She stopped and he halted, too, turning to her. The blush on her cheeks was still there, she could feel it. Ignoring it she looked him in the eyes, hands clasped together.

“I want you to feel at home with Julie and me. Please feel free to move around the house as you like. You don’t have to talk to me or anything, although it would be nice…”

A gush of wind tousled his black curls. The sun brightened up his magnificent eyes and made his pale skin glow. His lips looked softer than ever. He was beautiful. So beautiful. The lines on his forehead and the grey in his hair making him even more handsome, strangely enough.

Her heart ached for him; it made her say things.

“I miss you.”

His eyes widened and his breath got caught in his throat.

“Not…this way…”, she lied, unable to meet his eyes when she said it, “but…talking to you. Being with you…as a friend.”

Oh, she felt like an idiot. Bloody hormones, bloody sun, bloody cool breeze making her feel light-headed!

“I miss talking to you, too.”

Her head snapped up and her eyes found his. The heart in her chest swell and a lump formed in her throat.

“Really?”

Bloody tears in her eyes again.

“Yes.”

His eyes were red, but that could be from the wind that was getting stronger by the second.

“Do you want to go back?” he asked, brushing his curls out of his face.

Molly could only nod.

She didn’t watch her step on the way back, hardly noticed her surroundings. The light-headedness was at maximum and she felt like she was floating on air. He missed her, too. Maybe not the same way, but he missed her as a friend.

It meant the world to her.

 

When they were back in their flat, Molly announced she would take a shower. Sherlock stared at her intensely for a moment, then he cleared his throat and turned away.

A bit confused about the sudden change in him she walked towards the bathroom.

“Molly”, he stopped her, “this thing you said about the tension…”

She turned around. He was swaying slightly and his hands twitched.

“Do you think it will help the baby?”

Molly blinked.

“I think so, yes.”

He gulped and blinked.

“Then I’ll think about it.”

“Okay.”

She gave him a happy smile and went into the bathroom, leaning against the closed door.

_It’s a start_ , she thought hopefully.


	22. Chapter 22

Now that things kind of went smoothly with Sherlock, Molly had more time to think about John. After some contemplation she decided that they needed to talk. She was back on good terms with anyone else; she wanted John back, too. Maybe if she explained to him that Sherlock living with them was working out he would stop being angry with her.

So when Sherlock went out with Julie after school (they told her they were collecting bark from trees in different parks, but Molly didn’t believe that in a million years. Still she didn’t say anything, trusting Sherlock to keep them out of trouble), Molly seized the opportunity and took a cab to the Watsons.

They were surprised to see her since she hadn’t called ahead, but were happy to see her nonetheless. Well, the girls were. John was only clenching his jaw and almost refused when Molly asked for a private conversation. It took an angry look from Mary to make him nod.

John motioned her to go into the living room and offered her a seat. He sat down in his chair, staring at the wall, his hands clawing into the armrests.

Molly had only seen him this tense once, after Sherlock was shot and he came to her and asked if he could spent the night on her couch. She hadn’t dared to ask why he had left his pregnant wife that night, and when she finally did month later, he never gave her a full answer. She had accepted it, knowing that it must be pretty bad.

And right now Molly was dreading the answer again, but this time she had to open her mouth, anyway.

“Look, I know you’re angry about Sherlock and me living together”, she began and described how well she got along with Sherlock considering the circumstances; until she noticed that his eyes turned darker and darker with each word.

“Is that all you have to say?” he asked her after she had finished.

His voice was like a stab into her heart.

She looked at him helplessly.

“I’m really trying to make up with Sherlock. I know I’ve done him wrong. I apologized, I am trying to proof that I won’t leave him again, I involve him in our baby, I-“

Her voice faded.

What more could he expect her to do?

He shifted in his seat, pursed his lips, then bent forward and glared into her eyes.

“When will you apologize to _me_?”

Molly gaped at him. Her mouth went dry and her eyes widened. Him? What had she done to him? She asked him this.

Big mistake. He jumped out of his chair and walked to the window, his hands twitching.

Molly rose, as well.

“John, I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry that I hurt Sherlock, I really am.”

After a short silence, John turned around to her.

“Has it never occurred to you that you might have hurt other people as well when you left?”

Molly gasped, the wind knocked right out of her as realization punched her in the gut.

“When you walked out on the man you loved, you also walked out on me, Molly. Not one word of goodbye! Not even a text! We were friends, Molly! At least I thought we were. You were like a bloody sister to me and you didn’t even have the decency to let me know you were alive!”

Molly clasped her hands over her mouth to stifle the sob that burst out of her.

God, what a horrible person she was. She hadn’t even thought about John, that he might be hurt, too. Somehow she had just assumed he would understand. How could he? He hadn’t known that she was pregnant!

“John, I’m sorry! I didn’t think-“

“No, you didn’t.”

He took a deep breath, his own emotions getting the better of him.

“How could you not call me?” he asked, his voice now shaking. “I knew about your condition. I could have helped. I wouldn’t have told Sherlock if you hadn’t wanted me to. You wouldn’t have had to go through this all by yourself.”

Molly couldn’t bear this anymore. Looking into his hurt eyes, listening to all of this was just too much in her hormonal state.

She ran.

Mary called out after her but she didn’t stop.

 

Molly ran until her lungs and legs were burning and she couldn’t breathe. Luckily, a cab drove by. She cried for the duration of the ride.

It was true. She had forgotten all about her dear friend. For a long time, she had just pined over Sherlock. Then she had focused on Julie. She hadn’t thought about John. Of course she had wanted to talk to him after everything was over and she held baby Julie in her arms. But it hadn’t even crossed her mind that he might be worried. She had just assumed he would figure out what happened.

Molly had never felt more egoistic than right now.

John had been her closest friend next to Sherlock. During the time Sherlock was away they had gotten so close. At first John wanted to be connected to Sherlock through her. He had cried in her arms one night; she had held him. It had changed their relationship.   
And then, it wasn’t about Sherlock anymore. It was just them, talking, laughing, sharing meals, going out. Molly had helped him to get over the assumed loss of Sherlock. They had become close friends. He was the third person Molly had ever told about her child trauma. She had trusted him completely. She had loved him.

…How could she have not thought of him when she left?

She must be an even more horrible person than she already thought she was.

 

~oOo~

 

After paying the cab driver Molly went into the house and straight into bed. Only dressed in her red cardigan and her knickers did she curl up, enfolding her hands around her belly.

_Happy thoughts, Molly. Happy thoughts. You can fix this. You will find a way to make him forgive you. He forgave you that you lied to him about Sherlock’s death. He’ll forgive you again. Give it time. Keep trying. It will happen. It will happen…_

Over and over again did she repeat these words in her head, her eyes squeezed shut, desperately trying to be positive.

At least she had stopped crying. The rubbing of her belly helped.

“Mum?!”

Molly flinched. When she opened her eyes she looked into the scared face of her daughter. Before Molly got a chance to say anything, Julie ran out the door.

“Dad! Dad!”

Something clattered to the floor. Molly heard footsteps thunder through the flat. She had just sat up when Sherlock burst into the room with wide eyes, Julie on his heels.

“I’m fine. I’m fine”, Molly croaked but Sherlock had already grabbed her shoulders and was scanning her body.

“Are you in pain? Is something wrong with the baby?”

“No. No, I’m fine. Really. I was just tired.”

Julie sat down next to her and interlaced fingers with hers. Molly lifted her hand to kiss it.

“I’m sorry I startled you.”

“Julie, your mother is fine. Leave…please.”

Sherlock and Julie exchanged a look. It was the first time he spoke to her in an authoritative tone.

“O-Okay. I’ll clean up the bark.”

Sherlock nodded and Julie quickly left the room, closing the door.

“You really have been collecting bark?” Molly asked, surprised.

But Sherlock didn’t answer. He cupped her face with one hand, kneeling in front of her.

“You cried. Why have you cried? What happened, Molly? Tell me. Tell me now.”

His voice was tight, urgent. The fingers on her cheek were trembling. His eyes were widened and his bottom lip quivered.

Sherlock was worried sick.

This little fact drove tears into her eyes again.

His hand was so warm and soft on her cheek.

“I went to John to talk to him and…it didn’t go well. Obviously.”

She tried a smirk. A tear escaped her lashes and ran into his palm.

Something in Sherlock’s ocean eyes flared.

She knew what was about to happen.

“Oh, no”, she hurried to say.

But too late.

Sherlock shot up and marched out her door.

“Sherlock, no! It wasn’t his fault! Sherlock!”

Molly ran after him but Sherlock was too fast, grabbing his coat on the way out. When he slammed the door shut Molly almost bumped into it.

“Sherlock!” she ripped the door open, a cold gush of wind hitting her bare legs.

“Shit!”

Molly grabbed her camel coat and jumped into her boots.

“Mum?”

“You stay here, Julie.”

“What’s going on?”  
“Your father is about to kill John and I have to stop him.”

“What happened?”

“Later. Stay here, don’t worry. It will be fine.”

“Take your phone!” Julie called after her and once again Molly ran back into the flat to take the phone out of Julie’s hand.

“Love you”, she said and rushed off again, throwing the door shut.

Julie was left behind, staring at the door for a second. Then she ran into her room and grabbed her phone, texting Jamie that her father was on his way and being furious. 


	23. Chapter 23

Miraculously, Molly arrived when Sherlock still stood on the pavement, his cab just driving away.

“Wait here”, she ordered the cabbie and jumped out of the car.

“Sherlock, stop!”

But he didn’t. He stomped up the stairs to the Watsons’ front door and started banging against it.

“Stop this!”

Molly shouted again and was pulling at his arm when the door was opened by Jamie.

“Oh, hi Sher-“

Sherlock pushed his god-daughter out of the way and invaded her home.

“Where is he?!” he shouted angrily and stormed down the hall, checking room by room, Molly and Jamie close on his heels.

“Sherlock, would you please listen to me?!”

Molly called the moment he spotted John in the dining room. Chairs scratched across the hardwood floor and when Molly entered the room Sherlock was being blocked by Mary while John stood behind her. Immediately Molly rushed forward to join Mary.

“Calm down, Sherlock!” Mrs Watson ordered when Molly stepped up next to her and started pushing against Sherlock’s chest as well.

“What did you say to her?! Do you have any idea what could have happened?!” Sherlock shouted, his rich voice bouncing off the walls and droning in everyone’s ears.

Sherlock pushed against the women’s hands, trying to grab the man behind them.

“Sherlock, stop it now! He didn’t say anything that wasn’t true!” Molly yelled and pushed him back as hard as she could. He stumbled backwards which gave her enough space to spread out her arms.

She was panting.

“Enough!”

Sherlock stopped, nostrils flaring, knuckles on his fists white.

Molly exhaled.

“Please, Sherlock. Leave. This is none of your business.”

“You are my business! My child is my business!”

“I’m fine, Sherlock. Look at me. The baby is fine. I am fine.”

His chest was heaving and his eyes were still burning with rage.

“He made you cry!”  
“Yeah, well, I’m pregnant. Pregnant women cry all the time. Over nothing.”

“This wasn’t nothing.”

Molly turned her head. John was looking at her with wet eyes.

“He’s right. I deserve a punch. Several punches. I threw all of this in your face even after you started crying…you could have lost the baby.”

Sherlock was lunging again. Mary held him back. Molly was stunned how strong she was.

“It’s fine John. You were angry. And you were right. I hurt you.”

“That doesn’t give me the right to endanger your child. If someone had done something like this to Mary I would have killed him.”

“See? He’s agreeing with me. Let me go, Mary!”

“Oh, shut up!” Mrs Watson snapped.

“I know you didn’t do it on purpose. You would never do such a thing.”

John shook his head, pressing his lips together.

“I’m sorry, Molly.”

Molly smiled, her eyes getting wet once more today.

“I’m sorry, too. You were right, I did not think about you. I was so busy yearning for Sherlock and worrying about the baby I…it was all I cared about at the time. I’m so sorry. I’m a horrible friend.”

John cleared his throat, fighting with tears.

“So am I”, he croaked.

Molly smiled sadly.

“Could we…could we make a new start?” she asked hopefully, her heart hammering in her chest.

The second John nodded she rushed into his arms. He hugged her tightly and they simultaneously whispered how sorry they were.

When they parted, John placed a kiss on her forehead.

Molly beamed at him.

He used to do this back then. Now she really believed he had forgiven her.

“So, no punching?” came the question from behind the group of adults.

Jamie held her phone in hand, obviously filming them.

“Did you know he was coming here?” Mary asked, her eyes narrowed.

“Julie texted me.”

“And you let this maniac into my house?”

“Hey.”

Mary only pointed her finger at the protesting Sherlock.

Jamie shrugged.

“After the way he talked to Molly he deserved a punch. It would have stopped dad from feeling guilty. He said it himself.”

Mary took a deep breath.

“Go to your room. We will talk about this later. Go!” she interjected loudly when Jamie opened her mouth to protest.

When the teenager was gone, Mary turned to Sherlock.

“If you dare to threaten my husband again, I’ll break your arm. There will be no violence in this house, do you understand me?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes but the sharp look Mary gave him made him cave in the end.

“Fine”, he said, making a face. When Mary was walking over to her husband he added, “next time we’ll step outside, first.”

John and Molly burst into laughter. Mary glared, but the continuing laughter and the charming smirk of the consulting detective had her smile, too.

“You’re all crazy”, was her only comment before she left the room.

Next, John stepped up to Sherlock, offering his hand.

“I’m sorry, Sherlock.”

Sherlock took it.

With that, a crisis was avoided. After a hot cup of tea Molly and Sherlock climbed into the cab that was still waiting for them. Molly had totally forgot about it, but Sherlock paid the ridiculous bill without batting an eye. As soon as they stepped over the threshold Julie lunged at them, bombarding them with questions. Apparently, Jamie had sent her the video. Molly would have a serious talk with that girl; on another day. Now her priority was to calm down her daughter who was very upset. Sherlock and herself sat her down and explained the situation as good as possible without worrying her more. Well, Molly did most of the talking. Sherlock was surprisingly silent. Maybe he didn’t want to say something wrong.

 

“Do you think she will be all right?” Sherlock asked her after Julie had gone to bed later that evening. They were in the kitchen, Molly putting the plates and pots from dinner into the water-filled sink.

“She will be fine, don’t worry. It’s part of growing up.”

“What is?”

“Learning that your parents aren’t those impeccable heroes, that they make mistakes, too.”

“I’m going to kill Jamie.”

Molly giggled.

“Enough killing for today. Help me.”

To her surprise, he did. They stood side by side, she washing the dishes and he drying them off. It got very quiet around them, only the moving water and the dishes being put down making sounds. Their thoughts drifted away, back to times when this would have been just an every day activity when Molly stayed over at Baker Street. Slowly but inevitably the air around them warmed and these two people that once had loved each other were drawn closer and closer. Their fingertips made contact when Molly handed over a plate or a pot. His arm brushed against her shoulder. Her nose was filled with his scent. The cherry-blossom-scented shampoo she used lingered in his. Both their hearts were beating faster. Their skin became sensitive and began tingling.

It had been an intense day for both of them. For a moment Sherlock had thought he'd lose his child and his... Molly.   
  
  


His eyes glanced down at her. He gulped. If something had happened to either of them...he had been outraged, a pain gripping his heart he hadn't known before, driving him to his limits. He would have punched John if the women hadn't stopped him. Sherlock had felt so helpless, all he could have done was to punish the one that had inflicted pain on his...on her.

The kitchen light was dancing over her auburn hair. One drop of light was sitting on her pixie nose. He had adored her nose. He still did.

So close. Warmth in his chest. Longing, so much longing...

She looked up at him.

Her eyes. So bright. So deep. So comforting...

 

All of a sudden his fingers were in her hair, the damned dish towel getting stuck between them as he pulled her flush against him.

_Closer. Closer._

His eyes closed the second his lips touched hers.

Tongues sliding into each other’s mouths, stroking, tasting.

Her hair felt like silk.

Her mouth tasted like peppermint.

He remembered she had been chewing a gum after dinner.

_God, her body. So hot, so soft, so fragile._

_Closer._

_More._

Hands wandering, feeling, kneading skin, pulling at clothes.

Sherlock moaned when he pulled her naked body against his, the sensation overwhelming.

His mind was wiped clean. The only thing in his thoughts was the woman in his arms.

He stroked her arms while they were wrapped around his neck, pulling him down so she could kiss him again.

Always so hungry, his Molly.

His Molly...His. His...

She sat on the counter with her legs wrapped around his hips. He must have lifted her up. He couldn't remember doing it.

It was too much. Too hot. Too intense.

He moaned into her mouth when she pulled him against her core.

She pleaded with little gasps and moans, sounds that drove him to unknown highs.

He needed her so bad.

_More! Always more!_

He kissed and licked and nibbled at her flesh while his hand reached down, teasing her, shivering when she moaned into his ear.

A thrust of his hips and they were one. Breathing. Gasping. Moving.

They clung to each other, no inch of air between their hot bodies.

Making love to Molly Hooper was an experience second to none. Every time.

Faster.

Deeper.

Their position didn't allow him to fill her completely.

Frustration made him growl.

Suddenly they're on the kitchen floor and she's beneath him.

So good. His eyes stared at her face, lost in pleasure.

_Beautiful. So beautiful._

Then, beautiful creature, she raised, pressing her chest against his, wrapping her arms around him and clinging to him, moaning and gasping so enticingly.

He felt every wave of her ecstasy.

He pushed.

He moaned.

His senses were flared, he couldn't think.   
Just see and feel and taste and smell his magnificent Molly.

His teeth dug into her neck when he fell into the abyss.

_Molly._

_Molly._

_Molly!_

 

~oOo~

 

Oh, how he wished he could stay this high forever. His mind cleared, the ecstasy slowly fading, rippling down his body. He was at peace now, warm, comforted, safe. Still united with his saviour, her tender body pressed against his, her fingertips grazing up and down his spine and massaging his skull.

Salvation was here, in her arms, on the kitchen floor, right after climax.

Why did it always fade away so fast?   
Why did his mind have to take over control so brutally? Why couldn’t he get a little more rest?

He didn’t want to be reminded that this had been wrong; that it had been impulsive, foolish and dangerous. Julie could have walked in on him shagging her mother. He had almost traumatized his child. Furthermore, he had been shagging the woman who had destroyed the little faith in love he had had.

  
Thinking about this was like taking a cold shower.

Now he felt like a colossal idiot for losing control...again.

Slowly, he retreated and stood up, taking her hand and pulling her with him.

When they were standing on their feet he bent down to hand her clothes.

Then he grabbed his own and stepped into his trousers and shirt.

After that was done as well he went out of places to look.

Hesitantly he glanced at her.

“I-I should probably apologise.”

She didn't answer. Instead she bent her head and stared at her hands.

“It's okay”, she simply said and left.

Sherlock ran a hand through his hair and exhaled.

It had all been going so well. They had gotten along. Now his lack of control had ruined it. He didn't want her to think that he still felt...

His heart clenched.

No, he didn't. He couldn't. He didn't want to.

  
One heartbreak was enough.


	24. Chapter 24

To Sherlock's surprise, Molly didn't pull back at all. She greeted him with a smile the next morning and made him toast and tea, as if nothing had happened at all.

Sherlock was relieved...at first.

Then days passed, his thoughts drifting back to the kitchen and her in his arms, her kisses, her caresses, the way she felt, tasted, smelled...

It haunted him in his dreams; now he not only dreamt of the moving van but also the kitchen. He was in dream-hell.

She on the other hand looked as fresh as the cherry blossom she smelled like. The famous pregnancy glow made her more beautiful than he had ever seen her.

The nausea was gone according to one of the brief conversations they had these days and she ensured him that she never felt better.

...It was irritating, at first. Then it made him angry.

How dare she stay unaffected by their encounter?!

This evil voice inside him whispered that it was just one more proof that she didn't care about him at all. It negated the lovely things she had said at Regent's Park. She hadn't missed him at all, it whispered.

And the longer the voice whispered, the more did Sherlock believe it. Once again he withdrew from her, left her as soon as Julie was gone, locked himself up in his room and didn't think of her. No, not at all!

...yes, all the time. She was all he could think of.

She was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. The baby belly grew with each day, now an adorable bump under her tight shirts. Proudly did she show off her belly with her tight clothes and when she sat on the couch reading, and her hand absent-mindedly rubbed the belly Sherlock had a hard time tearing his eyes away. It was the most peaceful thing he had ever seen and it woke a longing inside him that made him want to rip his heart out of his chest.

His thoughts circled around what could have been. If she hadn't run away he could be a part of this, could sit on this couch with her, hold her, caress this adorable belly himself.

And he wanted to. So bad. He wanted to feel the skin stretch over the growing foetus, wanted to measure and document its growth, damn it he even wanted to rub baby oil on it.

Something new was waking in him. Parental instincts? He wanted to care for his child with all his heart. But that wasn't all. He wanted to take care of her, as well. He wanted to protect her so bad it was ridiculous. She was obviously fine, taking care of herself perfectly.

Useless. That's how he felt. Useless and irrelevant. Whether he was here or not didn't make a difference. At least not to her. He knew Julie was overjoyed that they all lived under the same roof. But not her. Not Molly. She was indifferent to it. To her, he was just a ghost haunting the second floor, rattling its chains once in a while; a ghost she put food out for, hoping he would leave her alone then.

God, he hated it!

How she smiled when she placed breakfast and dinner in front of him. How he found his clothes washed and ironed in his closet without a complaint or comment. How she said 'good morning' and 'good night'. So cheerful. So at peace with everything.

Hated it, hated it, hated it!

  
~oOo~

 

After three weeks Sherlock was a wreck. Frustration had built up and caused his whole body to itch. He needed distraction, stimulation. More stimulation than a few experiments could offer. For the first time in months he texted his brother.

_Give me a case._

Mycroft's reply came two unbearable hours later.

Sherlock called John, grabbed his coat and was out of this house within the blink of an eye, passing a surprised Molly on his way out.

He didn't say goodbye. He had the feeling if he opened his mouth only spite would come out and he knew he mustn't take out his frustration on her, even though she was the source of it.

 

For a short time span, the distraction worked. Mycroft's case was interesting enough to take his mind of things for a while. But the tension inside his body was there, a part of his brain always thought of his so called home, thought of the woman sitting on the couch rubbing her baby bump, all cosy and at peace with the world while he was all alone in the cold. It wasn't fair.

 

“Are you okay, mate?” did John ask in the cab after they had solved the case. Sherlock felt his friend's piercing eyes on him, causing an unpleasant itch on his skin.

“You seem a bit...edgy.”

“I'm fine. Just disappointed. Thought the case would be more interesting. You should think by now people have learnt to not leave traces online when they commit murder.”

Sherlock kept looking out the window. John kept staring. He could feel it.

“How are things at home?”

Home. Sherlock would hardly call it that. It was a prison. A prison he had locked himself in.

“Splendid. I spend a lot of time with Julie. That is, when she is not at your house. She and Jamie are getting very close.”

“And Molly?”

Damn. John didn't fall for that. Normally he loved talking about Jamie.

“She's fine. The baby, too. Both are fine.”

“And you are angry about that why?”

Sherlock spun his head around.

“I'm not angry! I'm glad they are well.”

John looked at him, then an understanding smile spread on his lips.

“You're feeling useless, don't you?”

Sherlock opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out.

“I know how that feels”, John continued. “Felt exactly the same when Mary was pregnant. It was even worse, for me, I think. I left her and still she grew our baby effortlessly. Didn't need me at all. Women. They truly are fascinating, aren't they? So strong and resourceful. They create life and all we can do is sit on the sidelines and watch like a bunch of idiots. Granted, they need us to work that wonder, but let's face it: What we contribute is nothing in comparison to growing life inside your body for nine months.”

John patted Sherlock's shoulder.

“Don't worry, Sherlock. Many men feel the same. Your time to shine will come. As soon as the baby is born you can be the hero you want to be.”

“I don't want to be a hero!” Sherlock instantly protested.

John only smiled.

Silence filled the cab again and Sherlock's brain worked on high-speed.

“So I can't do anything now?” did he ask in the end.

“Of course you can. You can take care of Molly, make her feel good, you know.”

“H-How do you mean?”

John shrugged.

“Can be anything, really. A cup of tea, listening to her complaints, a back rub, a foot massage and so on.”

Sherlock clenched his jaw.

“And what if I can't do that?”

He glanced at John, who gave him a worried look.

“Sherlock, if this is not working, you have to move out.”

John spoke out what Sherlock still denied to admit.

“No”, he insisted, “I want to be with my children. I can handle it.”

“Apparently, you can't.”

“I just don't want to get too close to Molly.”

John half-turned to him in his seat.

“Sherlock, that's inevitable. You live under the same roof. She is growing your baby. You spend every day together.”

“Most of the time I stay in my room or in the lab.”

John frowned, then shook his head.

“That's what this is about. You took up a case to get out of the house. You wanted to get away from her.”

“I just needed a distraction.”

Sherlock didn't bother to deny it. He knew it was useless at this point.

“I knew this wasn't a good idea. Did you say anything to her? Did you fight?”

Sex wasn't considered fighting, was it? Sherlock wasn't sure.

“No. We hardly talk.”

John exhaled again.

“Please think about this, Sherlock. I understand you want to be with your children, especially after what happened. But ignoring each other is destructive. It can destroy what is left of your relationship with Molly. Pregnant women are more sensitive. And Molly is even more sensitive to emotional stress due to her condition. You have to be careful.”

“Oh, believe me, Molly is absolutely fine. All she does is smile and giggle and be cheerful. It's repelling.”

When there's no reply, Sherlock turned his head. He was surprised to find John glaring at him.

“What?”

“I can't believe you.”

“What?!”

“You're still just an egoistic, stubborn child.”

Sherlock huffed.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You're just pissed that Molly is okay with your childish behaviour.”

Sherlock opened his mouth, but John wouldn't let him speak.

“Oh, don't even deny it! You're sulking! Sulking like a little baby!”

“I'm not!”

Both men missed that the cab stopped.

“Yes, you are! You're still sulking that Molly left you twelve years ago! And you want to make her feel bad about it, even after she apologized and agreed to move in together! What more do you want? She's made a mistake and she knows that! So pull yourself together and grow the fuck up!”

“I'm not sulking!” was all Sherlock could yell before John stepped out and slammed the door shut and the cab drove away.

With a huff Sherlock fell back in his seat, squeezing his eyes shut. His whole body was tense and aching. He should have punched John. It would have made him feel better. It certainly would have relieved some of this agonizing stress. Sherlock was in desperate need of an outlet for this stress.

Oh, a fight would be heaven. He wanted to punch someone so bad. With this storm raging inside him he didn't dare to go back to Regent's Park. Unimaginable what would happen if he'd see her now, with her smile and her damned glowing skin. He would say something nasty, he'd explode and tell her to go to hell with her cheerfulness.

Or he would fuck her. God, he'd love to fuck her brains out right now...

That would show her that he was useful. He would make her scream and cry, make her feel so good that she’d beg for more...

What the hell was he thinking?!

Clenching his hands into fists Sherlock hissed a new address at the cabbie.

“Cousland boxing club. Make it fast.”


	25. Chapter 25

Exhaustion. Limbs heavy, every move a struggle. Knuckles crusted with blood. Pain throbbing in his hands and face.

It felt good. So good. No consuming tension. Mostly numbness. Only a bit frustration left.

This frustration had brought him here; her bedroom. He stood next to her bed, still in his coat.

He watched her.

It may have been minutes or hours, he couldn't tell.

His jaw clenched.

_So peaceful._

She was lying on her side, both hands under her head, the blanket gathered around her hips. The street light falling through her window illuminated her face. Strands of hair covered her eyes.

_Hair smooth as silk._

_Skin so soft._

His brows furrowed.

Even after hours of boxing the longing was still there.

Would it never go away?

He saw his fingers shaking as he reached out; saw the blood sticking to his knuckles as he brushed the strands out of her face.

Her skin was warm. So warm.

It reminded him how cold he felt. So cold. And so alone.

His fingertips grazed her skin all the way down to her chin.

His breathing was shallow.

A strand of hair got caught between thumb and index finger.

Her hair was even softer now.

Did it have something to do with the pregnancy?

His eyes darted down to her belly.

He wanted to, but he didn’t dare to touch it.

Somehow it felt wrong; not without her permission.

_If you only had stayed_ , he told her silently, _we wouldn't be as alone as we are_.

_I would have loved you till the end...Molly mine._

His bottom lip quivered.

A term of endearment, only whispered in the safety of darkness, when he had held her in his arms.

He let go of her, his heart aching.

The pain only increased with every second he stood here, like a thief in the night, stealing the intimacy he didn't admit he needed.

As silently as he came he left.

_So cold._

_So alone._

 

~oOo~

 

“Oh my God, dad! What happened?!”

As soon as he entered the dining room, Julie jumped out of her chair and ran to him. Patting her back when she hugged him he pushed her back to the table and sat down next to her.

“Things got ugly on the case. But don't worry, I solved it and the murderer is behind bars now.”

“Did you fight him?”

The door swung open and Molly came in carrying a bowl with mashed potatoes. She stopped dead when she saw Sherlock's black eye and cut lip and gasped, the bowl almost slipping out of her hands. They locked eyes.

For a second he thought her eyes were filling with tears, but then she blinked and put the bowl down as if it was a normal Friday evening.

“Are you okay?” she asked casually and his jaw clenched.

“Yes.”

“I can take a look at if, if you like.”

“No, thanks.”

“What happened, dad?”

“The murderer resisted his arrest. John and I had to chase him down and had to use force.”

Julie frowned.

“But John was home at seven. He didn't say anything. And he certainly didn't look like he had been in a fight.”

Sherlock looked at his daughter.

“And how do you know that?”

“I slept at Jamie's.”

Sherlock glared at Molly.

“On a school's night?”

“Don't change the subject, dad!” Julie said before Molly could reply anything.

Sherlock had to think on the spot.

“After John left Mycroft called that he got away.”

“You just said you and John chased him down.”

“I misspoke.”

“I don't think you did.”

“Julie, let your father eat.”

Sherlock glanced at Molly.

It was nice of her to come to his rescue.

Why did it make him even angrier?

The three of them ate their dinner in silence, Julie pouting that her father didn't tell her the truth. She excused herself as soon as she was finished, leaving Sherlock and Molly alone. When he heard her door close, Sherlock rose from his seat.

“I didn't know Cousland's was still open.”

Sherlock halted at the door.

When he turned around, Molly was stacking the dirty plates.

“I have a bag of peas in the freezer, if you want it. I also have coconut oil which can help with the discolouration. It's in the bathroom.”

Without looking up she took the plates and went through the other door into the kitchen.

Sherlock couldn't help the thought that she was mad at him.

_She. Mad. At him._

_Pah!_

He already took a step in her direction when he stopped himself.

Don't go there, he warned himself and went into his room instead.

He would get the bag of peas later, when she was back on her couch watching telly with Julie. 


	26. Chapter 26

Molly had no idea what was going on in Sherlock's head. After their encounter she had been bloody hurt. She had cried half through the night. She didn't understand why he did this to them. He had kissed her, too. He had undressed her and touched her and had lifted her onto the counter. He had wanted to make love to her! Still she felt this bloody guilt, like she had forced him to make love to her. It was ridiculous as it was humiliating.

But she would not let him know how much he had hurt her with his bloody 'I should apologize'. To hell with that. So she had put on the brightest smile and pretended the whole thing hadn't happened, just as he wanted.

Oh, but it was hard.

She missed him even more now. Those few minutes had been heaven. The way he had kissed her, had pulled her close...it had been so wonderful.

She had felt so close to him, wanted and loved and admired and cherished...and then he had taken it all away.

Now she was back to being the villain he couldn't stand to look at.

When she felt particularly bad she wished he would move out. Sometimes she even wished she had run away again.

It was horrible, so horrible.

She immediately chastised herself when she thought such a thing.

And she tried to move on, she really did. She was still trying to make this a welcoming home for him, to make him feel comfortable.

But it got harder with every passing day of his refusal.

Now, every day felt like a slap in the face and it reached a point when she couldn't continue anymore. Not like this. As much as she didn't want to, she knew they had to talk.

And once again, life made fun of her.

The day she had planned to talk to him was the day he decided to get beat into a pulp.

Molly had been worried sick when he hadn't come home that night. For the first time in weeks she had felt sick again, knowing the reason wasn't the baby this time. Well, not the baby inside of her. It was the baby called Sherlock Holmes.

Getting into a fight!

She had never expected such a caveman-behaviour from him. If he was angry at her, he should man up and talk to her, goddamn it!

Molly had been short from punching him herself to give him another, matching black eye.

It was then and there she decided to not talk to him. It would be useless. If he wanted to be a child, fine. He should stay away. Maybe it was for the best. This way she could focus on her beautiful baby.

Her beautiful, beautiful baby!

She loved to watch it grow, spent hours in front of the mirror inspecting her growing belly.

And she loved rubbing it. Loved to sing or talk to her baby. Actually, she began having whole conversations with her baby, his or her replies coming from her head, of course. Still, it was more pleasant than being ignored by the idiot that was the father or listening to him playing violin upstairs.

Molly tried everything to stay happy and optimistic.

She tried to ignore the fact that he was up there, only a flight of stairs away.

But the more her baby belly grew, the sadder she got.

He had moved in here because he didn't want to miss anything and yet, he did. He hadn't even looked at her belly properly, least of all touched it.

This was a miracle. It was his child growing and he missed it all.

It made her really sad.

  
  


It was what made her knock at his door one night. It was a weekend so Julie was staying with her grandparents and Mycroft and the house was so bloody silent Molly couldn't stand it any longer.

Sherlock took his time opening his door.

Warm yellow light softened his features and Molly instantly felt drawn to him. Well, she always did, so she told herself to get over it.

“Do you have a minute?”

“Is something wrong?”

“Yes.”

His eyes darted to her belly. Still, he hesitated to open the door to his bedroom.

He remained there when she stepped inside, door handle in hand, the other hand buried in his pocket.

Molly was briefly distracted by his room, realizing she hadn't been up here in the four months they lived together. It almost looked like his bedroom at Baker Street.

“You really don't like change, do you?” she couldn't help but comment, a smile on her face.

He chose not to reply, but straightened and let go of the door. The hand disappeared into his pocket, as well.

A gesture so harmless, still it spoke volumes. He didn't want her here.

“God, you're so infuriating!”

He looked up.

Admittedly, it wasn't the best start for a serious talk. But Molly was fed up with being the bad girl.

“You're acting like a child!”

His eyes turned cold the second she said it.

“First, you talked me into moving together and now you're hiding in your room again! I thought you wanted to be a part of this?”

Molly pointed at her baby bump.

“This won't happen again, Sherlock! This is a one in a lifetime experience and you're throwing it away just because you're sulking.”

He inhaled sharply. Molly saw the dark cloud hovering above his head. But she ignored the warning signals. He wasn't the only one unhappy with the situation. And she was so fed up with walking on egg shells.

“I know you didn't want this, but it is happening, Sherlock! A child! Your baby! Growing a little bit more each day. You've heard his heartbeat! You know it's real! How can you be so cold?”

His eyes flared and he took a step in her direction, but stopped himself.

“Get out”, he said instead and grabbed the door handle again, pulling it open.

“No”, she replied and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“I won't spend another day with you under this roof unless you talk to me.”

“Are you threatening to throw me out?”

“Yes.”

They glared at each other.

“And what will you tell Julie?”

She blinked.

“I will think of something.”

“Yes, you should. Because _I_ won't lie to her.”

Oh, that stung.

_Back to the old argument, then._

“Oh? So you'll tell her that you treated her mother like a bag of garbage as soon as she left the room?”

“Ah. It's my fault again. How convenient for you.”

He might as well have thrown a dagger at her heart.

“You know what? Fuck you!”

His eyes widened.

“I'm sick of this! I won't be the bad guy any more! And I won't apologize again for what I did twelve bloody years ago! I offered you a new start. And I kept the end of my bargain. I welcomed you into this house, I tried everything to make you feel at home. I cooked for you, I washed your clothes-”

“I didn't ask for any of that.”

“I know. I wanted to do it. I wanted to be family. Even if it was a very dysfunctional version of a family. At least I tried. For Julie, for you, for myself. But you couldn't get off of that damned high horse of yours, could you? You'd rather sit on it, judging me for what I did than being a part of this. You're a bloody idiot, Sherlock Holmes! And I'm fed up with putting up with you!”

His whole body was tensed up and he came towards her like a panther ready to pounce. But she'd be damned if she’d coil in front of him now.

“Putting up with me?!”

His voice was like ice.

“Yes! I can't deal with these silent accusations any more. You avoiding me is like a slap in the face! A slap I don't deserve!”

“Don't you?”

He hissed, standing in front of her now, tall and imposing.

It just fuelled her anger.

“No, I don't! I did nothing wrong! Not this time!”

“Didn't you?”

Gosh, this man was so bloody annoying. Molly wanted to throttle him. She was so fucking done with him!

“What? What did I do wrong?”

His jaw clenched and something lit up in his eyes.

Oh, for goodness sake. Did he seriously blame her for...?

“Fine! I apologize! I apologize for letting you fuck me! Twice! Wait. You know what? No! I won't apologize for that! Because it gave me my baby!”

She closed the gap between them and glared into his blue-green eyes.

“And it was fucking fantastic!”

With that she stormed past him.

She was at the door when his hand appeared next to her head and shut the door before she could escape. His body heat clashing against her back made her shudder.

A hand came to lie on her shoulder and her eyes fluttered shut.

She felt dizzy. The shift in the mood had come too fast.

Slowly, it wandered down her arm.

Shy, hesitantly it was placed on her belly.

 

For the first time she felt his warm hand on her lightly swollen belly and a sob broke out of her.

His touch was so tender, so shy, so loving. She couldn't help the tears streaming down her face.

Sherlock buried his face in the crook of her neck and pulled her flush against him. His arms wrapped around her and he began stroking her belly, first all of his hand, then just the tips of his fingers. Somehow they had moved the clothes out of the way to touch her bare skin. Molly shivered over and over again.

“She's so small”, he suddenly whispered and his rich baritone vibrated through her body.

“She?” she choked.

He was all around her. His warmth had enfolded her body, his hair was tickling her cheek, ever so softly. Its scent was familiarly fresh and a smile mixed in her tears; the same shampoo. She tilted her head to bury her face in these beloved curls. Too short was the time she was allowed in there. Suddenly there was skin against skin. Lips brushed over hers.

Then a kiss, light as air.

Her heart was pounding so fast it wanted to jump out of her chest.

“We made this”, came his voice again.

His hand covered Molly's little bump protectively.

“Yes”, did Molly reply, her voice merely a whisper.

Sherlock pulled her closer.

“Our baby.”

More tears. How she wished she would stop crying! She felt so foolish.

“Don't send me away, Molly. I want to be here. I will be good. I promise I'll be good...”

  
  


And then, a miracle.

Sherlock froze.

Molly gasped.

His big hand pressed down on her belly.

Again.

Molly laughed and covered his hand with hers.

“It seems like someone wants you to stay.”

Their child kicked again.

Another sob. But this time, it wasn't Molly.

Her heart ached and she tried to wrap his arms around him, but couldn't due to their position.

“Sherlock.”

He was holding her so tight she couldn't move.

Calling his name made him loosen his grip and now she could turn around.

His lips found hers effortlessly.

She melted into his arms and he held her, now applying no pressure to her.

As if she was made of glass Sherlock only grazed her arms upwards to cup her face instead.

No. She wanted to be held. She needed his arms around her.

“Touch me, Sherlock. Touch me”, she breathed into his mouth, her fingers unbuttoning his shirt.

“Where? I don't...I don't want to hurt you.”

“Everywhere”, she replied, her voice a desperate whisper.

And he did.

God, he was so beautiful in his tenderness it took her breath away.

When they had shed their shirts, Sherlock embraced her, guiding her to the bed.

“No more fighting”, Molly mumbled against his skin and pressed a kiss above his heart.

“No more fighting” he repeated.

Their hands were taking off the rest of each other’s clothing while their mouths and tongues were lost in deep, long kisses.

Molly's heart was pounding with joy. This time they weren't lost in passion and Molly was allowed to explore and caress.

So did he.

His touch so familiar and new at the same time. His kiss so deep and full of longing.

“God, Molly! I need you. Please, please.”

Molly felt warm, wanted and loved when he sat down and pulled her on top of him, enfolding her in his arms, tenderly kissing down her neck.   
Her hands wandered into his hair and she closed her eyes.

“How is it possible that we are only at our best when we are butt naked?” did she whisper.

Their eyes met. Molly felt his soft hands travel down her body to cup her cheeks.

“Well, it is a lovely butt.”

He smirked at her and Molly had to kiss him again. She missed joking with him so much. It felt so good.

“Are you sure the baby will be okay?”

His eyes shone with worry and she loved him for that.

“Yes. She will be fantastic because her mother will be happy.”

With a mischievous grin she lowered herself onto him, loving the little gasp that left his heavenly lips.

“I'm so frustrated, you have no idea. I'm horny all the time. And your scent lingering in the air just makes it worse. I feel like a bloodhound sniffing for its prey.”

Sherlock chuckled and placed a hand in her neck.

“Well, you've got me now. What do you want to do to me, Molly Hooper?”

Her heartbeat fluttered as he kissed her hungrily. So playful, so devoted, so giving. This was the Sherlock she knew; her Sherlock.

Their fight was forgotten. All the old pain was buried deep under the longing and desire these two drew together.

“Do you remember the week in that old castle in Scotland where you took me for vacation?”

“It was a case.”

“It was a vacation”, she smiled against his lips. Her hands couldn't stop to stroke and knead the muscles under his skin.

“You needed one day to solve that case and the rest of the time we were shagging like rabbits.”

Sherlock smiled.

“It was a very pleasant case.”

Molly giggled and they kissed again.

“Do you remember the afternoon in the client's car? I rode you like a thorough-bred stallion.”

Sherlock growled and his hands moved her hips back and forth. He needed friction.

Molly let her tongue slide into Sherlock's mouth, circling the tip of his tongue.

“I want to ride you like that again, as fast and hard as I can.”

“God, Molly!”

With a smirk she pushed him down onto the mattress and then she let actions follow her words.

 

When they were both satisfied and relaxed, Sherlock wrapped himself around Molly, pulling her panting body flush against his, his hands covering her baby bump.

There they lay, their eyes closed, Molly in Sherlock's embrace, feeling warm and content and peaceful for the first time in years. Understandably, neither of them was in a hurry to break the spell their passion had woven around them. Now it felt like they were back to being just Sherlock and Molly, without the heartache and their differences.

They made love once more, neither of them talking. They just enjoyed and pleasured each other.

They were just happy.

 

~oOo~

 

Inevitably, Sherlock came to his senses and realized that he had slept with Molly once again; well, twice. As per usual he stiffened; just this tiny change in his body hurt, feeling that it wanted to get away from her as fast as possible. She couldn’t bear another heartbreak. And she knew that they would not come back from this. So, making a decision for both of them, she pressed a finger on his lips when Sherlock lifted his head to speak.

His eyes looked at her. Molly could see the fear.

“Please”, she whispered, lying in his tousled sheets, her body as naked as she felt right now, “don’t. Don’t destroy this. I know you are afraid to get hurt again.”

She had to pause due to a knot in her throat and let her hand brush over his warm face. She outlined his cheekbone and the side of his nose before the back of her fingers caressed his cheek.

“I know I can’t say anything that will make you believe me that I won’t do that again. All I can do is to prove it with actions. But you have to let me. You have to give me a chance so I can prove myself worthy of your trust. Please give us this chance, Sherlock. Don’t apologize for this. And don’t blame me for this. It was good. It was bloody fantastic.”

He smiled at that and she smiled back.

“I know things are messy and difficult but, just for today, could we maybe…”

She hesitated, ashamed to ask this of him. She knew she had no right to do so.

“I know it’s egoistic but…we’re all alone in this house and…well…just for today…could we be us again? That’s a horrible thing to ask, is it? I really don’t meant it that way, you know, like you haven’t gone through a lot, I just thought…I could really use a timeout and…well, shag each other’s brains out.”

He looked down at her, his eyes unreadable.

God, he must hate her. She had made it even worse.

“I’m sorry, Sher-“

That’s how far she got with her stammered apology. Sherlock had crushed his lips onto hers and a second later their limbs were entangled and wouldn’t untangle for hours.   
  


  
~oOo~

 

For the rest of the day and all through the night Sherlock and Molly were walking down memory lane in the most intimate way possible. They made love countless of times, the need for the other never fading, always sparking again after the flame had been extinguished by a wonderful climax. It seemed like they were making up for those lost twelve years, but not just in matters of sex. No, the most important thing was to be close, to feel, to look into each other’s eyes, to give tenderness as well as receive until both felt warm and safe, a feeling they had been missing for so long.

Even when certain body parts were too sore they never stopped touching and kissing each other.

Oh, it was all so wonderful, so intimate, so comforting. Every kiss from Sherlock’s lips was like a promise of forgiveness. They whispered to her, reassured her that this beautiful man whose heart she had broken still felt for her. The love was still there and right now she felt it.

This day, in his arms, she felt she could handle any obstacle thrown in their way. She could heal this. They would have a future, not just as parents. One day, they would be all they had been and more.


	27. Chapter 27

From that day on, Sherlock made a 360° turn. The next four months would be the happiest in Molly’s life up to this point. They became a family. Sherlock got involved in her pregnancy to the point of annoyance. He stuck to her like a limpet and finally asked all the questions he had wanted to ask all along. He measured her belly every day and when Julie was at school they would take a walk or cuddle on the couch, Sherlock always spooning her with his big hands wrapped protectively around her growing belly. Hell, he even worked out with her. It was the funniest and most adorable thing she had ever seen. He made all the pregnancy moves until she was crying with laughter. They talked about everything, even about things that happened during the years they had been apart.

Sherlock told her his most exciting cases but learnt quickly that Molly was too emotional to listen to the ones where he or John had almost died. He left those parts out then and Molly listened with keen interest, looking just like her daughter. They even revised past autopsies; Sherlock had never been happy with Molly’s replacement at Barts.

  
It was a magical time for him, as well. Molly blossomed right in front of his eyes, physically as well as psychologically. Soon, it felt like they had never been apart. Sherlock lost himself in this feeling of content and…well, happiness. It had been too long since he had felt at home.

Molly had always been his home. Not Barts. Her. Always her.

 

Often when Julie wasn’t in the house, Sherlock would wrap his arms around her from behind and pull her flush against him, his hands enfolding the belly and his head buried in the crook of her neck. He wasn’t aware of it, but it was his go-to move. These embraces always lead to sex.

Molly’s go-to move was less subtle. She simply pounced him. More than once was he interrupted mid-sentence by hungry lips claiming his or was pushed against a wall as soon he had closed the door behind Julie.   
She hadn’t lied; this woman was in a state of constant arousal.

Sherlock didn’t mind. Not at all. A randy Molly was naughty and playful and did things to him that made him beg for more. She had always been wonderful in bed, but this was beyond anything he remembered. And he remembered it all.

The more her belly grew, the more the need to be with her rose. Some primal protective instinct, no doubt. Now was his turn to take care of her. She had always been the caretaker in their relationship, but Sherlock enjoyed the switched roles and he tried very hard to make sure she had everything she needed. Somehow, Sherlock wanted to prove her and himself that he could do this. And by the way Molly smiled he had the feeling that he did a good job.

 

They were sitting on the couch one morning, Sherlock rubbing some lotion on Molly’s belly, which was curved nicely by now. She liked watching his hand move over her baby bump and today she watched him particularly closely. Without looking Sherlock noticed the signs of her arousal. It was crazy, but as soon as he was aware of her state his body reacted, readying itself to satisfy her within seconds.

The lovemaking was somewhat messy due to the lotion sticking on his fingers and her belly and his hands slipped a few times, almost losing his hold on her. She was most comfortable with being on top these days, with her back to him, his arms wrapped around her, holding her belly while she moved. Normally he loved it like this as well, but this time it made things impossible. After she almost fell off of him again she burst into laughter and carefully dismounted him. When she saw his disappointed face she grabbed his wrist and pulled him to his feet,

“Dining room. Table”, she breathed into his mouth when she kissed him. His answer was a growl. She giggled and together they went into the dining room where Sherlock carefully lifted her onto the long table. Biting her lips and with sparkling eyes Molly leant back on the table and Sherlock bent over her, carefully kissing her breasts, which were very tender by now. Her plead to take her sent a shiver down his spine and he happily obliged.

It was fantastic.

  
~oOo~

 

Relaxation buzzing through both of them, Sherlock pulled Molly onto his lap and gently rested his head between her now full breasts.

“Do you like them better this way?” she suddenly asked, Sherlock having trouble to identify what ‘them’ where, still on the high of his climax.

“Your breasts?”

She nodded, her hand weaving through his hair and massaging his skull. It was heaven.

“You always complained they were too small.”

“I never complained. I simply stated their size was small in comparison to the average breast size. And that was before we had sex.”

“Back when you were a jerk lusting after me.”

His eyes widened and Molly giggled.

“I never lusted after you – or anyone, mind you.”

“You did when I wore the skirt for the first time. You know, on John’s birthday.”

Ah, the skirt. How could he forget that blasted skirt that had woken the beast? To this day Sherlock had no idea why it had such an effect on him. It wasn’t that it was particularly short or tight. It was a normal sized, knife pleated skirt with a plaid pattern in different shades of red and grey. Nothing spectacular. But as soon as he saw her in that thing, the deep, very deeply buried desire for his pathologist had risen its head and punched him in the face. His eyes had been glued to that skirt the whole evening and Sherlock had insisted to bring her home when she wanted to leave. Needless to mention what happened after they had entered her flat.

The skirt had been the only thing left on her body while he had ravished her.

It had become _the_ skirt over time, for Sherlock’s insane obsession with it had never faded.

“I didn’t lust. I…focused on you.”

She grinned.

“Where is that skirt, by the way?” he tried to ask nonchalantly but Molly’s giggle told him she saw through his faked innocence.

“It’s in my closet, somewhere. If you behave I’ll wear it for you after the baby is here.”

Sherlock hummed and placed a hand on her pronounced belly. They shared a kiss, then Sherlock looked down.

“Do you think she feels disturbed when we have sex?”

Molly couldn’t help but laugh.

“Like someone constantly shaking the bed you’re trying to sleep in?”

He shrugged.

“Well, she never moves when we do it, so I guess she likes it.”

“Or she’s terrified.”

She giggled again.

“ _Mummy, mummy! There is a bald man trying to get into my room!_ ” Molly imitated her unborn child and Sherlock bit her shoulder playfully.

“I’m serious.”

“You really don’t have to worry. She’s fine. And very happy that her dad cares about her so much.”

“How do you know that?”

Molly shrugged.

“We talk.”

He huffed.

“You mean you talk to her. She can’t reply, Molly…you know that, don’t you?”

She flicked his forehead.

“Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not. I’m concerned about you.”

“Oh, shut up. I’ll go look for the blasted skirt.”  
  
“That’s all I ask.”

Molly laughed and he smirked, stopping her by the door to the hallway for another snog. Then they ran upstairs, both butt naked and laughing like children.


	28. Chapter 28

If only it could have stayed like this forever.

It was a dream; such a beautiful dream. Molly had dreamt of this so many times back in Paris, raising her child on her own. It was even better. It was perfection. They were a family. Sherlock, Julie, Molly, and the baby that was on its way. And to make it even more perfect, they had the perfect summer with a record of sunny days.

They spent most of their time in parks. Often Molly was reading, Sherlock was on his laptop and Julie was doing her homework. Then father and daughter would disappear for a bit, going on their very own adventures, most of them harmless, some of them not so much. Molly almost freaked out when she found them high up in a tree, commanding them down this instance.

Molly also loved it when the Watsons joined them. A few times even Mycroft came along. She would never forget how odd and out of place he looked walking through the grass with his expensive suit and bare feet, chatting with Julie. It was touching what this girl could make him do. He loved her so much. And he also loved the niece or nephew that still was on her or his way. Molly often found him looking at her round belly with this soft expression on his face. He looked very much like his brother then and she understood what he didn't dare to ask. So one sunny afternoon, under the safety of a low-branched tree, and with Julie chasing Sherlock around for stealing the last fairy cake, Molly simply took Mycroft's hand and placed it on top of ' _babe mountain_ ', how Julie liked to call it.  
As expected, Mycroft immediately turned to stone, eyes wide. It needed a re-assuring smile and a 'it's fine' from Molly to make him move. His eyes wandered down and very hesitantly Mycroft let his hand wander over the soft cotton of her summer dress. His fingers were shaking and his eyes became wet. It was so sweet Molly couldn't help but to place her hand on top of his and show him where the baby's feet were resting against her skin, pushing against it to get a reaction. The look on Mycroft's face when her baby kicked her uncle's hand...Molly would never forget it. It was the first time he would smile at her, honest and open and warm. It made him look so much younger; and she spotted a few laughter lines.  
A memorable day, that was.

All of them were, really. Molly kept them safely locked away in her heart. Maybe because deep down, she knew it wouldn't last. Too many things were left unspoken. Too many feelings were left unexplored. And it wasn't only Sherlock who denied them. She pushed them far away from her, as well.

It was so much easier to live in denial.

...Until the truth got thrown into her face.

Then it hurt even worse.

  
~oOo~  


It was after a night of stolen kisses in the hallway. They still kept their agreement to not be intimate while Julie was home, not even did they kiss in front of her. But this night they had been out of London to watch stars with Julie and it had been so lovely, the air so warm there was no need for blankets, but they used them anyway. Hours of fingertips brushing against each other and feeling their warmth had left them buzzing with longing, so after they had kissed Julie goodnight they found themselves in the hallway, Sherlock pulling her into his arms and nuzzling her neck, lips wandering up to her jaw, cheek and finally to her lips.

“I had a lovely day”, she whispered against his lips, her hands grazing up and down his arms.

“Me too”, he answered, kissing her once more.

“Well, goodnight then”, she smiled and kissed him again.

“Good night.”

Another kiss.

“What would you like for breakfast tomorrow?” he asked when she was about to leave his embrace, cupping her face with both hands and pulling her to him once more.

She wasn’t able to answer for a whole minute.

“Cereal would be fine.”

“I could make toast.”

A kiss on her lips.

“Bacon…”

A kiss on her jaw.

“Some mushrooms…”

Molly’s eyes drifted shut when he placed an open-mouthed kiss on her throat.

“Sausages…”

She shuddered, but not only because of the wet tongue tickling her skin. The thought of sausages instantly made her feel sick.

It gave her the strength to move out of his warm embrace.

“Please don’t mention sausages.”

His ocean eyes were sparkling in the dim light coming from the living room. Molly knew that sparkle all too well and she would have loved to spend the night with him, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to fully enjoy it. It would feel like sneaking around behind their daughter’s back.

“Julie will go to Peter’s tomorrow”, she pointed out, her hands wandering over his chest.

Sherlock’s jaw clenched.

“Yes.”

“We shouldn’t do it now.”

“No”, he agreed, his head bent down. He looked so disappointed, it made her feel wanted and sexy.

“Although I’d love to”, she whispered and smirked at him. Then she curled her fingers into his shirt and pulled him down to her for one last, deep kiss.

“So you’ll think of me”, she breathed and his lips closed around her bottom lip, sucking gently.

“I don’t need anything to think of you.”

Her heartbeat stuttered and she leaned back, looking into his eyes.

“Really?”

She almost burst into tears from the way he looked at her, his fingers gently tugging a strand of auburn hair behind her ear.

“Yes.”

This was it. The moment she realized that she was still in love with him. Hopelessly. Forever. Never had she loved a man like this and she knew in her heart that she never would again. It had always been him. Only him.

Molly wanted to tell him exactly that. But she was afraid. And it felt out of place, here in the hallway, like thieves in the night. Furthermore, she didn’t want to pressure him. She knew he needed time. He had to be the one who said it first. And she would wait gladly as long as he kept looking at her like this.

Her heart overflowing with emotions, she placed a hand into his neck and pulled him in for a long, tender kiss, hoping it could transmit the love she felt inside.

By the way his eyes bore into hers when they separated she was positive it had.

“Good night”, she whispered and smiled.

When she turned to leave his hand held hers until it was out of reach.

One last look, then Molly stepped into her room, her heart drumming in her chest, her soul finally feeling whole again.

This night Molly fell asleep with a smile on her face.

It was the night before her daydream was shattered into a million pieces.

 

~oOo~

 

She was on her daily walk when dark clouds rolled in and she decided to return home to get a jacket and an umbrella. Once she stepped into the hallway she spontaneously headed into the kitchen for a little snack. Passing through the living room she heard the front door being opened and smiled when Sherlock’s and John’s voices echoed through the flat. Mycroft had given them a new case this morning, nothing dangerous of cause. Mycroft had promised Molly to not endanger him. Still this was no guarantee Sherlock wouldn’t put his life in danger on his own account, but Molly was sure Mycroft had his watchful eye on him. After a quick check of the fridge Molly decided to peel a carrot. She was halfway through the task when her ears picked up Sherlock’s and John’s conversation, coming down the stairs again.

“-Oh please, it’s so obvious. More accidental sex?”

Molly blushed.

_Woops, seems we have been caught._

“No.”

_That’s right. You tell him, Sherlock!_

“So you did it on purpose?”

“Of course I did”, Sherlock answered impatiently and Molly could feel him rolling his eyes.

“And what does it mean?”

She couldn’t help but perk up her ears. It was a good question.

“It means that I am willing to do anything to keep my child healthy.”

The peeler stopped halfway down the carrot.

_What?_

“What?” John asked what Molly was thinking. She could hardly hear him over her thundering heart.

The front door was opened and closed again a second later.

“Sherlock. What have you done?”

Tears welled up in Molly’s eyes.

_No. No, it can’t be. He wouldn’t do this to me. The way he looked at me…it is real!_

“Let go of the door, John.”

“Not until you look me in the eyes and explain to me what you think you are doing to that poor girl.”

“I am keeping her happy.”

_Oh God._

“By lying to her?!”

_God, please. Please, no._

“You told me to make her feel good...and so I do.”

A pain shot through her heart. A pain so brutal that Molly cringed and gripped the counter to stay upright. Her head was spinning.

“Not by pretending to be in love with her!”

Her knees gave in and she sank to the floor. One hand clasped over her mouth, she tried to stifle her sobs.

The voices coming from the living room faded away then and Molly could only hear the blood rushing through her ears and her flat, ragged breath.

Nothing but pain. That’s all she felt. Her heart was breaking and she could do nothing about it. Those love-filled green-blue eyes turned cold and disappeared.

_A lie. It’s all been a lie. He doesn’t love me. He’s only pretending. He’s lying to me to keep the baby safe. I don’t mean anything to him. I’m just the shell in which his child is growing. That’s all I am…A shell…Nothing more…Nothing…nothing…_

 

A bang. Molly flinched. The front door. They were gone.

Molly let go of her now hurting mouth and cried out, trying to get this pain out of her.

Why, did it echo from the walls inside her head, over and over again. Why did he do this to her? Why? Why? Why did she deserve such a cruelty?

She wanted to die. For one painful moment, she just wanted the pain to be gone.

But then her eyes fell on her baby belly and she wrapped her arms around herself protectively, rocking back and forth.

“It’s okay, baby. We’re fine. Everything’s fine. Mummy loves you. Mommy loves you so much.”

Molly couldn’t stop crying for a long time. It took all her strength to block out the face of the man who had broken her heart and concentrate on the life that was inside of her. With shaking hands she rubbed her belly and pushed against it, hoping for an answer. But there was none and Molly felt cold and alone.

It felt like she was going under, sinking lower and lower, into an ocean full of darkness. A distant voice kept whispering to her to move her arms and legs, that she could get out, that she had to.  
  
For her baby.

Her baby.

Her beautiful baby.

_Deep breaths._

_Deep breaths!_

_Feel the air fill your lungs and how it gets pushed out again._

_In and out. In and out. Steady._

_Feel the weight of your baby inside you. Feel the strain on your skin. Feel that? That is your baby. And she needs you. So calm. Down._

 

Staring at the kitchenette Molly kept counting the handles of the drawers and the cupboards, her hand constantly rubbing her belly.

It took an eternity, but slowly she climbed out of the black water until she could finally breathe again.

Her head sank against the cupboard she was resting against and she closed her eyes. She refused to think of Sherlock. She refused to think of anything.

One minute. That’s all she needed to regain control, she told herself. She had been through a lot. She knew pain and heartache and she had never let it win. She wouldn’t allow it to control her now. She was stronger than that. No matter what life threw at her, she would overcome.

 

When her back began aching as well as her buttocks, Molly opened her eyes to the world again.

Still not thinking about him, she sighed and looked around.

“Great. Now I can spend ten minutes trying to get off this floor. Well, I guess it will have the same workout effect as the walk.”

Humour. That’s always been Molly’s go-to self-defence mechanism. Very slowly, she scrambled herself off the floor.

 

Just when she thought the worst was over, a nip. Molly frowned and wanted to straighten up. A pinch. Her hand reached for the counter and she looked down, not seeing anything due to the heavily pronounced belly. She turned around and her heartbeat stopped. There, on the white kitchen floor, where she had sat a minute ago: A wet spot.

Hastily Molly reached inside her trousers and gasped when she felt wetness.

_Amniotic fluid!_

“No, no, no. Please, God, no!”

Molly didn’t lose time. As fast as her aching body allowed it she wiped her fingers on a dish towel and reached for her phone lying on the counter on the other side of the room. Whispering to her baby that all would be okay she dialled the only number she could think of right now.

A flash of pain made her cringe, still she pressed the phone to her ear.

Just three beeps before the answer came. To Molly it was way too long. She was panting and crying again.

“Mycroft!”

That’s all she was able to say before another flash of pain robbed the air from her lungs.

“Where are you?”

His voice was strong and authoritative. Good. She needed this now.

“Home. Please hurry.”

“The ambulance is on its way. Everything will be fine, Molly. I have a team on standby just for an emergency like this. You will be okay. Your baby will be fine.”

With both hands she clung to the phone, listening to Mycroft’s soothing voice.

Sirens in the distance, coming closer fast.

“Thank you, thank you”, she whispered over and over again.

Then the door was busted open and Molly made herself known with a desperate outcry. It was all a blur after that, but suddenly she was in the shaking ambulance, faces looking at her, voices talking to her. Then the world faded away. 


	29. Chapter 29

Buzzing noises from the lamps above their heads. The tapping of the umbrella on the floor. These were the only sounds in the corridor Mycroft paced up and down.

“You have to call him.”

Mycroft looked to his left. The blackberry was in her palm, as usual. His blue eyes met hers.

“He’s done enough”, he replied and looked away.

“You don’t know it was him.”

“Of course I do”, he snapped. “I’ve seen them. He made her believe he felt for her. And I let him carry on with this charade.”

He had promised to protect them. He had failed.

“As per usual you don’t look close enough.”

He straightened and turned to her. His eyes told her that now was not the time to criticize him. She ignored it. She always did.

“He loves her. He has never stopped loving her. He’s just been too proud to accept it. Doesn’t that remind you of someone we know?”

“Not now, Anthea.”

Mycroft had no patience for her teasing at the moment. There was too much at stake. If only he could do something. He had advised the doctors to immediately inform him if they needed anything. But no one came. They were still in the in the room with her, trying to prevent a premature birth.

“We have to talk about it now. Because if you won’t tell him, I will.”

He glared at her.

“This is family business.”  
“Exactly. And I won’t let my brother-in-law go on about his day while his family is in danger.”

He raised his head, looking down his nose. She never brought up their family status outside their flat.

“What do you think will happen when he’s here? He’ll only upset her more. Maybe she doesn’t even want to see him.”

“That doesn’t matter. His place is here. With her and the baby.”

“I’m here.”

Anthea exhaled.

“You’re not the one she needs, Mycroft.”

Mycroft looked down the corridor. He had to protect them, did it echo through his head. He was the protector of the family. That was his role. It was his job.

“If it was the other way around, if it was your wife in there…wouldn’t you want to know?”

His eyes darted to her and they looked at each other for a long moment.

He gave her a nod.

She only hit a button, obviously already having the message prepared. She always won with him. It was the only thing he disliked about the woman he married.

…no, that was a lie. He loved it.

“Now come sit with me. Your pacing is making me nervous. There are a bunch of messages we have to go through.”

His lips twitched into a smile, yet he waited until she looked up from her phone again, throwing him a glare.

He would never cave easily.

But in the end, he always did.

“I’ve informed the Watsons, too”, she said when he was sitting next to her.

“Just what we need.”

Anthea chose to ignore his sarcastic comment and began reading him the messages that needed an instant reply. Mycroft hardly listened. Once again (it happened more often than he would ever admit) he was smitten with the cleverness and capability of his wife. She was his anchor in so many ways. He didn’t dare to think what life would be without her.

A rare sentiment befell him and following this impulse, he leant forward.

Anthea looked up from her phone and met his eyes. She was more than surprised.

“We are not doing this in public”, she pointed out, a repetition of what he had said years ago. Her memory was excellent.

“Indulge me”, he whispered and the distance in her eyes melted away.

He closed his eyes when her lips were on his and a comforting hand caressed his cheek. Even after years of marriage this woman still had the ability to make his entire body tremble with only a chaste kiss.

“They will be fine, Mike.”

His forehead rested against hers as he lingered, feeling her warmth and her scent enfolding him.

“You did the right thing and I’m proud of you.”

From every other person on this planet something like this would be nothing but an insult. Coming from her it eased the feeling of guilt.

“I don’t want her to get hurt”, he admitted and brushed his nose against hers.

“Well,” Anthea leaned back and smiled, “loving a Holmes is never easy. She knows that. And she’s strong enough to endure the pain.”

Mycroft looked at the woman he loved. He didn’t understand why she was still by his side. All he knew was that he was grateful. Very grateful.

He interlaced his fingers with hers, saying it all with this simple gesture. He knew she understood.


	30. Chapter 30

The sound of thundering footsteps announced Sherlock's arrival. Mycroft let go of Anthea's hand and stood up so he could meet his brother with a poised posture when he burst through the automatic doors. He did a few seconds later, the three musketeers aka the Watsons close on his heels.

As soon as Sherlock spotted his brother and Anthea, the sharp pain in his chest eased a bit. In situations like these, when he was on the verge of losing control, it had always been the most reassuring to see his brother. Mycroft would make things right. He always did.

“Where is she?” Sherlock asked the second he was close enough, ready to run into the room his brother pointed to. To his surprise, Mycroft stepped in his way. The cold look he gave him was confusing.

“What? What happened?”

“Shouldn't _you_ be the one telling _me_?”

“I don't have time for this now, Mycroft. How are Molly and the baby? Are they all right? I need to see them!”

Sherlock wanted to push his brother out of the way. To his surprise he stood his ground.

“They are fine. Molly had contractions, but my team could prevent a premature birth. She is sleeping now. We have agreed that she'll stay here for the rest of the pregnancy.”

“I want to see her.”

“I already told you she is sleeping.”

“Then I'll wait. Mary, can you pick up Julie from her friend's?”

“She doesn't want to see you.”

Sherlock turned back to his brother.

“What?”

Mycroft repeated his words.

Sherlock frowned, his eyes hurrying over his brother's face. His heart beat painfully fast. What was going on?

“Why not?” he asked, lost. It had been going well. She had been happy with him...

Mycroft clenched his jaw and looked at him the way he used to when they were young and Sherlock had severely misbehaved. It still made him feel bad.

Time slowed down and his heart began to race when Mycroft began to explain.  
  
  


_No. It can't be. It mustn't. No!_

  
  
“She was outside on her walk”, did he stammer with wide eyes.

“Oh my God”, did he hear John gasp behind him.

“She came back”, was all Mycroft replied.

The voice of his brother echoed through his brain. His whole body had gone numb. It was like he was standing beside him, watching the scene from afar. Not one part of him wanted to believe that he had destroyed this...

“She will call you. Now you should leave.”

Sherlock gulped. Tears were blurring his vision. He hadn't cried in front of his brother since he was 9. Now that he was beyond 40, a tear rolled down his cheek.

He felt like this young boy again, stupid and lost.

He didn't know what to do. His brain had stopped functioning. It scared him.

Desperately, he looked at his older brother.

“Help me”, did he choke out.

Something lit up in his brother's eyes, but then they went cold again.

“This time you have to find the answer yourself...brother mine.”

Sherlock felt sick.

All alone.

He had always been there for him in his gravest hours.

But now he had abandoned him, too.

He was alone...

“Sherlock.”

John placed a hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off.

“No! I have to be here.”

His own voice sounded foreign to him.

A hand slipped into his. His eyes darted down, then he looked at his god-daughter. Her blue eyes looked as frightened as he felt.

“We will think of something.”

She smiled at him. She was as strong and as brave as her parents.

“Let's go pick up Julie. Together we will find a way to win her back.”

Pressure on his hand. He closed his eyes, another tear escaping.

His hand curled around hers.

It wasn't right to lean on someone so young, something inside him told him. But then there were hands on his shoulders again. Mary and John. His best friends in the world.

With his head hung low, he let them guide him outside.

Every step away from her was pain.

 

~oOo~

 

The little hand was warm, the fingers tightly wrapped around his. Sherlock could feel the pulse race through her veins. Tears were lurking in the corners of her eyes, but his daughter refused to cry. It gave him the strength to not cry himself. He had hated to crush her smile when he had picked her up. Having to tell his child that her mother was in hospital was the worst thing he had to do. And she didn’t even know it all. Mary had urged him not to tell her that he was the reason for this misery.

“She doesn’t need this information. It will only hurt her. She’s too young to understand”, she had said when they climbed the stairs to her friend’s flat.

Sherlock had listened to Mary. A part of him knew she was right, still it felt wrong to keep this from her. In his opinion she had every right to know what kind of a man her father was.

He looked out of the window, taking a deep breath. His lungs refused to take the air. His chest felt numb.

London was passing by in front of his eyes and he followed the cab’s route on the map inside his mind. It was good to have something to focus on. This and the warm hand in his.

 

Mary did most of the talking when they were home, calming Julie and trying to cheer her up.

“We will go visit her tomorrow morning. Give her a little time to rest. Hey, how about we bake some oat biscuits for her she likes so much?”

Julie only nodded. Sherlock felt her big eyes on him but kept staring at his hands on the dining table. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. In the end, Jamie wrapped an arm around her shoulders and dragged her along, suggesting they also made chocolate chip cookies for themselves while they were at it.

As soon as Julie left the room, weakness took a hold on him and he buried his face in his hands.

“We will stay here tonight.”

It wasn’t a question. John had made a statement.

Sherlock wanted to thank him, but his mouth was dry and a lump in his throat prevented him to get out a tone. It took several minutes before he was able to even lift his head.

“I lied.”

The words sounded like a croak. His eyes were hurting from the pressure of his hands and he had to blink a few times to clear his vision.

John was sitting next to him, hands folded in his lap, looking at him.

“This morning…I lied…”

“I know”, John said calmly and Sherlock glanced at him.

His friend’s eyes were serious and compassionate.

“She heard it all, didn’t she? She must have. She was in the kitchen and the doors were open.”

John didn’t reply. He didn’t have to. Sherlock knew it was true.

“I don’t know what to do, John.”

A hand was placed on his shoulder and squeezed. Comfort he didn’t deserve.

“Tell me what to do.”

Sherlock looked at John, begging him for the answer his head could not produce. His lips were tightly pressed together and the expression in his eyes…it scared him.

“Maybe you have to accept-“

“No”, Sherlock instantly interrupted him. He felt betrayed by his best friend.

“It won’t end like this. After everything…I won’t let her go again. This time I will follow her to the end of the world if I have to. I should have done it when she left, I should have followed her and bring her back home where she belonged. I have to make this right. There has to be a way…I’ll tell her I didn’t mean one word. She has to believe me.”

“And what if she doesn’t?”

Nausea spread inside his gut and his hands ran through his hair.

“She has to. I will tell her tomorrow and I won’t leave until she believes me.”

The hand on his shoulder was pulled back and the spark of strength left him.

“She doesn’t want to see you at the moment, Sherlock. You have to respect that. For her safety and the safety of your child.”

His fingers curled around his locks. He wanted to pull them all out.

“But I need her to believe-“

“It’s time to do what _she_ needs.”

His eyes fluttered shut, a searing pain shooting through his chest. Again, he was nothing but selfish. Again, he was doing it wrong.

Sherlock nodded and swallowed down the lump in his throat.

“Can you stay with Julie? I need to go to my mind palace.”

“Sure, don’t worry. We’ll spend the night on the fold-out couch. Jamie can bank with Julie. Everything will be fine, Sherlock. Mycroft has the best people to take care of Molly and the baby.”

_Yes_ , he thought bitterly, _and I am not one of them_.

But he nodded before he left the room. Climbing the stairs was difficult. His limbs felt like they would cave any second. With heavy steps he trudged up into his room and slouched down on the bed face first, rolling onto his back.

He stared at the white ceiling.

Nothing.

He felt nothing.

Just this numbing emptiness.

 

Steepling the hands under his chin, he closed his eyes, resorting to meditation techniques to enter his mind palace.

The world around him faded away, but brown eyes followed him wherever he moved.


	31. Chapter 31

Like a watchdog Mycroft was there the next morning standing guard in front of Molly’s room. His blaming look rested on Sherlock for a moment, then his eyes scanned the rest of the group.

“It should go without saying that you can’t all go in at the same time. Julie”, he held out his hand to her and she let go of Sherlock’s hand.

It hurt, even though it wasn’t her fault, of course.

With another judging look Mycroft lead Julie through the door, closing it behind him.

Sherlock exhaled and began pacing the floor while the others sat down, silently chatting.   
  
  


~oOo~  
  
  


“Mummy?”

Molly turned her head away from the window, a smile spreading on her lips. She reached out for her daughter and pulled her tightly against her chest.

“Are you okay?”

“I am now”, Molly replied and kissed Julie’s cheek. “I’m sorry if I scared you. Everything’s fine now.”

“When will you come home?”

Julie’s slanted eyes hurried over the several monitors surrounding her mother, missing how she and Mycroft exchanged a look.

“Well, the doctors and I think it’s best if I stay here until your sister is born.”

“I’m getting a sister?”

Molly beamed at her.

“Yes. The silly doctor mentioned it, not knowing that I wanted to be surprised.”

Molly stroked her belly.

“You can start to think about a name for her.”

Julie’s eyes widened.

“I get to name her?”

Molly laughed.   
“If you pick something nice, yes.”

Julie smiled and was about to think of good names when the other piece of information was processed by her brain.

“Wait. You’ll stay here? For how long?”

“Eight weeks. I know it seems long, but I promise it will pass in no time.”

“What are you going to do here for eight weeks? You’ll be bored to death.”

Molly chuckled.

“Well, you can come visit me, for one thing. And Mycroft promised to come, too. He’ll also bring me some books and I have the telly. It will be like a holiday, just without the beach.”

Julie played with her mother’s fingers.

“Okay. I’ll come straight after school. And dad will be here like all the time.”

This time Julie didn’t miss the look Molly threw her uncle. She followed her eyes.  
“What? What’s wrong?”

Mycroft cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I need Sherlock for another case, so he won’t be able to be around.”

Molly closed her eyes for a second. It wasn’t right to ask him to lie for her; neither was it right to lie to Julie. But sometimes the truth hurt more, she reminded herself.

“But mum needs him. Can’t you do it yourself?”

“I’m fine, Julie. Don’t be mad at your uncle. I have everything I can ask for here. It’s the safest place for me and Roberta.”

Julie made a face. Molly laughed.

“Beatrice?”

“She’s not a hundred, mum.”

“Fine.”

Molly let a strand of Julie’s hair slide through her fingers.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Julie asked again, being blessed with the instincts of her mother.

“Yes, sweetie. Don’t worry. How was it at Peter’s?”

“It was great. We played on his Play Station 8 and- oh, wait!”

Julie reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out the bag of biscuits.

“Mary, Jamie and I made biscuits for you. Oat and chocolate chip.”

“Hm, yum! Thank you. Can I have one?”

“Of course”, Julie replied happily and opened the bag for her mum, watching closely how she pulled out an oat biscuit and bit into it, humming and smiling.

Then she held out the bag to Mycroft.

“No, thank you”, he politely reclined.

Julie only tilted her head to the side, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Fine”, Mycroft exhaled and grabbed one cookie of each kind, both disappearing into his pockets. “If the ladies would excuse me, I have to get back to work.”

He bent down to place a kiss on Julie’s forehead and she hugged him.

“Molly.”

She nodded and then he went outside, leaving the girls to themselves.

  
  


One look was enough to get his brother on his feet. They took a few steps away from the Watsons. Then Mycroft turned to look his brother in the eyes. Once again, he didn’t see the man. It was the confused, frightened little boy he saw, eyes big and begging him to help.

“You will not go into that room.”

Sherlock’s mouth opened to protest.

“She doesn’t want to see you. You will respect that. I will pick up Julie after school to visit her mother and you are on a case. Molly will call you to let you know how you two will proceed after the birth of the baby.”

“Are you saying I am not allowed to see her for another eight weeks?”

“Indeed. She will stay here where she is safe from you.”

Pain flashed over Sherlock’s face.

This hadn’t been necessary. Mycroft had slipped. He was still furious with him. Playing such twisted games with the woman who was carrying his daughter was beyond careless, even for him.

“I have to apologize”, Sherlock insisted, hands clenched into fists.

“You can do that over the phone if you must. But I advise against it. You’ve passed the point of no return this time, brother dear.”

“What does that mean?” Sherlock hissed through gritted teeth.

“That you have ruined this, Sherlock. Not even she can forgive you this time.”

His little brother’s eyes filled with tears and his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Did she say that?” he croaked.

Mycroft briefly contemplated to lie. In the end, he decided against it.

“No. But I’ve seen her.”

Letting his words hang in the air, Mycroft left, the tapping sound of his umbrella filling the corridor. At the door he turned around, watching Sherlock in his coat that looked far too big for him now, standing in the middle of the white corridor. He looked lost, his shoulders and head hanging low.

If Mycroft had been a different man, he would have comforted him. But they both were who they were. It was too late for either of them to change.

In the end, they would always destroy the good in their life.

It was their curse.

The automatic doors swung shut and Mycroft closed his eyes for a moment.

Then he went on about his day as usual.

It was the only thing he could do.

 

~oOo~

 

“Are you not going in, dad?”

The question he had dreaded for an hour. One by one they had gone inside, Julie staying with her mother the entire time. Everyone but him.

Now he only shook his head and held out his hand to his daughter, who looked at him with her big eyes that were so similar to his.

“Let your mum get some rest, Julie”, Mary tried to help but Julie crossed her arms.

“What is going on here? What are you not telling me?”

“Let’s go, Julie.”

Sherlock’s heart was beating faster. He couldn’t tell her. Not here, not now. Just for one more hour he wanted her to look at him without resentment.

“Don’t think I’m stupid. I see that something’s up. I can deduce it.”

“How?” Sherlock asked softly.

“By the way you’re acting. At first I thought you were just sad and frightened like I was but now…you look like you feel guilty. You barely make eye contact with anyone, especially not me. Is it because you have to go on a case for Mycroft and can’t be with her?”

A way out. Too tempting not to use.

“Yes, I am.”

“But mum said she didn’t mind. You can go in, she’s not mad.”

“I know, but…it’s just easier for me this way.”

“Why?”

“It just is, Julie. Please, let us go home.”

“No, explain.”

He exhaled. For the first time in his life he got a hint of how it must have been like for his parents to raise boys who did nothing else but demanding answers for their countless questions. He felt for them. Maybe he really should be nicer to them…

“Not now, Julie. Please.”

Julie frowned. The tone in his voice was unsettling.

“Fine. But you will tell me.”

“Yes.”

In the end she sighed and took his hand. Together they walked out of the hospital, the faithful Watsons by their side.

 

Despite the worry in her heart, Julie felt safe. Everything would be fine. They were all there. Their unusual, one-of-a-kind family. She loved them all. And she would love her sister, too.

 

… _Rebecca?_

 

… _Sarah?_

 

… _Ariadne?_

 

… _Elizabeth, maybe…_


	32. Chapter 32

Two days passed without a word from Molly. The numbness had nested inside his chest. Just when Sherlock began to think that it would stay there for the rest of his life, her name appeared in the display of his vibrating phone. Immediately his heart began racing and he shot up from his bed which he had laid down on after he sent Julie off to school.

A trembling thumb hovered over the answer-button.

He dreaded what this phone call might bring. A part of him wanted to throw the damned device out of the window and run for dear life. But the need to hear her voice won mere seconds later.

Pressing his lips together he answered the call.

“Molly”, he said into the phone, his heart racing, his eyes squeezed shut. All his focus was on the voice he was waiting for.

She didn’t speak right away.

But when she did, he absorbed the sound of her soft voice.

“Hello. Is Julie gone yet?”

“Yes.”

“Good. That’s good…”

Silence so loud it droned in his ears. The fear was back, stronger than ever.

“Are you all right?”

Was he even allowed to ask? He didn’t know.

“Yes. The baby is fine, thanks to Mycroft and the doctors.”

“You called him.”

“He was the only person I could think of.”

A sad smile around his lips. He knew what she meant. Mycroft had many faults, like himself, but in times of grave danger, there was no one better than him.

“He has that effect on people.”

_Can one hear a smile? Of course not._

Why didn’t she speak? Why didn’t she yell and insult him?

_Molly…_

_Always so unpredictable._

He wished she would do what most women would do, just this once. He wanted her anger. He was craving it. Anger was good. It meant that you cared, didn’t it?

_Molly…_

“Has she told you it’s going to be a girl? You were right.”

A spark of happiness in the midst of his despair.

_A girl. Another girl._

Sherlock closed his eyes, imagining his daughter and enjoying the wave of warmth that rolled through his body.

“That’s wonderful”, he answered blissfully.

“Yeah.”

A little less space between them. Maybe now was his best chance. She must be as happy as he was thinking about their child. He had to tell her.

“Molly, I-“

“Don’t.”

His eyelids fluttered and his lips trembled.

“Please, Molly…”

“No.”

The light inside him was extinguished mercilessly. Back into the darkness it was.

“Please, let’s talk about this.”

One more try. He had to.

“I don’t want to talk. I’m done.”

The sound of her voice hurt him. It lacked any emotion. She just sounded tired; tired of him.

The nausea inside him was back. His heart was beating in his throat.

He literally could feel the bond between them rip apart, fibre by fibre.

His mind was racing.

_Something_.

There must be something he could do or say that made her believe-.

“I want you to move out.”

His eyes fell close. His heartbeat was drumming. For a second he thought he might throw up.

“Not today or tomorrow. But when I come home I want you to be gone. Maybe you could start with the lab. Please make sure it is clean before you leave. You can take Julie back to Baker Street. Mrs Hudson certainly will be happy to have you back.”

… _And you’ll be happy to be rid of me._

“You can be here for the birth if you like, but I don’t want you in the delivery room.”

His legs gave in and he slouched down onto his bed.

All he could do was listen to Molly cutting him out of her life.

“And once we’re home…I think five times a week will be enough. I’d like to have the weekends to myself.”

“Enough for what?” his voice asked. It sounded strange to him.

“To visit the baby.”

He wouldn’t be allowed to be with them every day. It was only two days, still it felt too long to bear.

“Once she’s older she’ll be allowed to see you whenever she wants, of course. Just like Julie.”

“What are you going to tell her? I can’t always be on cases.”

Molly exhaled.

“I know. I just tell her the truth: That it’s gotten too difficult and that it’s easier for me to not be around you.”

The bond was ripping. And it hurt. So bad.

“I think it’s the only way this will work.”

He shook his head, breathing hard.

Why couldn’t he come up with an argument that this was silly? Something logical! Just one!

“I want you to be in their lives, Sherlock.”

“I want to be in your life, as well”, he choked out.

The pain was too intense to think clearly. He bent forward, rested his elbows on his knees and buried one hand in his hair. His whole body was shaking now.

“You will be. You’re the father of my children.”

Her voice, so disappointed. She hated that it was him who fathered her children. He could feel it in his bones.

“That’s not enough.”

A sob escaped his lips. Damn it! He was pathetic. He pressed his hands on his eyes to prevent tears.

“Stop it, Sherlock”, Molly suddenly pressed, her voice now trembling as well. “Stop this. Just stop…You had your revenge. Be satisfied with that.”

“What?”

He couldn’t believe what she had said. That she really thought he’d do something like this to her…

“That’s what this was about, wasn’t it? To show me how it feels when you find out it’s all been a lie.”

“No, I-“

“I didn’t lie, Sherlock. My feelings for you…I loved you. I really did.”

_Past tense. No, please no!_

“Molly, please let me-“

“I have to go. Bye.”

“Molly. Molly? Molly!”

She had hung up. With shaking fingers he called her back. She blocked his call.

Redial.

Block.

_Lose fibres of a bond hanging from his heart._

 

With an outcry Sherlock threw his phone against the wall and buried his head in his hands. And then he cried, letting out all the pain that was bottled up inside him until he once again felt empty and beyond exhausted. 


	33. Chapter 33

Another two days. Numbness. Emptiness. Cold. So cold.

His body was moving on autopilot, pretending to be under the command of a strong mind.

But this mind wasn't strong at all. It was in agony. On the inside, he was screaming.

Self-loathing.

Fear.

Longing.

He felt it all at once and it drove him insane.

Sherlock had always thought he couldn't feel worse pain than standing in his living room, realizing Molly had left him.

He had thought not knowing what he had done wrong had been the reason for the intensity of the pain.

As it turned out, knowing what he had done was even worse.

She had heard him tell those lies, those blatant, idiotic lies, spoken out of false pride and fear.

She had heard him say that he didn't love her. That he had only pretended to care about her these past months. That he had slept with her only because...

_God._

She would never forgive him.

How could she?

He couldn't even forgive himself.

  
  


His body felt wrong. So bloody wrong he wanted to scratch his way out of it, rip open his chest so he could breathe again.

Once again Sherlock tried to cling to logic.

It was the deprivation of sleep. That's what drove him insane. Not sentiment. Biological reasons only...Biology. Simple biology...

  
  


_Molly..._

_Molly mine..._

  
  


Pressure on his throat. He couldn't breathe. He needed to breathe.

He needed to see her.

His Molly.

His.

No.

Not his.

Never his again...

  
  


He cringed.

So painful.

He couldn't take this.

He wasn't strong enough.

Always so weak. He'd always been too weak.

Unable to handle emotions.

_Love._

_Love..._

It had never done him any good. One moment of happiness followed by an eternity of despair.

It wasn't worth it.

Better forget it.

Leave it all behind.

He had never deserved happiness, anyway.

…

This wonderful happiness. Oh, it was so bitter-sweet. This one moment of perfection. When he held her in his arms, when he felt her heart beat against his chest. This unique warmth, inside and out. Peace. Such a peace...

With her, he had been free. She had loved him, despite it all.

How had she done it?

How had she been able to endure his brokenness?

What had been her source of strength?

Whatever it had been, now it had run dry.

This time, he had managed to destroy her spring of forgiveness.

No one could forgive such a humiliation.

Not even her.

…

He gasped for air.

He couldn't breathe.

Not without her.

He needed her.

He was egoistic like that.

He was disgusting like that.

Like the monster he felt did he sneak through the house, passing John and Mary who were sleeping on the fold-out couch, grabbing his coat on the way out.

Bare feet walking, leading him through the heavy rain drubbing on his head, eyelids and shoulders, soaking through his coat, the weight trying to drag him down.

Blindly he crept through London, his loyal feet finding their way on their own.

Thunder droning in his ears.

They pressed on, obeying their master's wishes.

_Molly._

The bright light of the hospital was a violent contrast to the darkness inside of him.

His feet carried him inside, waited patiently until the receptionist turned around, then walked on.

Nimble hands worked their way through security barriers.

Cold rain droplets racing down his face. The weight of his wet coat pulling at his shoulders.

_Down. Down._

But his feet kept walking.

_Molly._

There she was.

_Good feet. Good hands. So loyal._

  
  


As if waking from a dream, Sherlock became aware of his surroundings again. The only source of light in the room came from a street lamp outside the window.

One bed.

A monotone beeping coming from a heart monitor.

An IV in her right arm.

Blanket pooled around her swollen belly. Still full. Still alive.

Body on the side, hand lying on top of her belly protectively. Eyes closed. Lips parted. Strands of hair falling into her face.

Deep, regular breathing.

  
  


_Molly._

  
  


Heat in his eyes. His wet feet dragging over the ground. Bottom lip quivering.

She looked so weak.

So fragile.

Hand trembling, reaching out.

He wanted to touch her.

He had to. Had to feel her skin, warm and soft. Alive. Healthy.

Fingers shaking.

He could feel the heat of her hand; clashing against the coolness of his own.

It was like a barrier; a barrier he could not breach.

Untouchable.

He had no right.

Not anymore.

He wasn't worthy.

He could have killed her baby. He had seen the amniotic fluid on the kitchen floor and on the dish towel after he had come home.

She could have lost it.

Because of his cruelty.

Because of his brokenness.

A lump in his throat, preventing air to fill his lungs.

Hot tears mixing with cold rain drops.

A droplet falling onto her hand.

_Wrong._

_So wrong._

She shifted, mouth moving.

His feet dragged him back into the shadows. Where he belonged.

From here he would watch over her.

From here he could do no harm.

From here, she would be safe.

And her baby.

He would watch.

Keep a vigil.

Just one more minute...


	34. Chapter 34

His nightly trip to the hospital earned him a heavy cold. For an entire week Sherlock couldn’t leave his bed, being too weak to stand. Maybe his broken heart had something to do with that, as well.

Mary and Julie took care of him. Even though Sherlock had protested that Julie should go visit her mother, she insisted on staying with him. To prevent infection, Julie didn’t visit her during this week. Sherlock only heard her call her from downstairs, laughing and chatting happily.

Molly waited to tell her about their future living situation until he was back on his feet.

 

~oOo~

 

The second Julie stepped into the house, Sherlock knew she had told her.

Julie’s eyes were red and wide with confusion. Sherlock guided her into the living room and prepared her favourite drink before he sat down next to her, staring at his hands.

“So I was right. Something did happen. And all your talk about how it helps you to clear your mind to not see her before you work on the case was a big load of stinking lies.”

Sherlock gulped.

“Yes.”

“Tell me”, she insisted.

“What did your mother say?”

“You tell me _your truth_ first, then I’ll tell you what mum’s _truth_ was.”

Julie made air quotes around the word ‘truth’.

Sherlock admired her cleverness and he gave her a proud little smile.

He looked at her for a long moment.

He could tell her so many lies she would believe. He would be convincing. Actually, he had prepared a few waterproof lies.

But as he looked at her, his daughter, his Julie, he knew it wasn’t right.

She deserved the truth. Maybe she wouldn’t understand. She was twelve, after all. But he understood that she needed to hear it, having felt the same when he was little. Not having an explanation at all was worse than to have one and not understand it. Because one can learn to understand, but if you have nothing to go by, you’re lost.

Sherlock took a deep breath.

“It will hurt you, Julie.”

“I guessed as much”, she countered bravely, her eyes watering.

“And you won’t be able to understand some of it.”

“You don’t know that.”

He smiled. Then he held out his hand, a silent plead echoing inside his head.

She looked at his outstretched hand for endless seconds.

When she placed hers in his, relief washed over him, his eyes fluttering shut.

In a soft voice he told her everything that happened, trying to simplify it as much as possible. It took merely minutes to tell how he broke her mother’s heart and with that nearly murdered her sister.

When he was finished, Julie retreated her hand.

It nearly killed him, but he had expected it.

“Why did you say that if you didn’t mean it?”

“Because I’m a fool.”

Not a satisfying answer.

He tried again: “When your mum left me, I was very hurt. I missed her so much…but I was also proud. Too proud to chase after her. This pride and the anger mixed into something unhealthy and destructive and it only got bigger with each passing year. I told myself I didn’t love her any more and that I would never forgive her for hurting me. And then she was back, with the most beautiful gift she could have given me.”

Sherlock smiled and Julie blushed.

“She explained everything and offered me a part in your life…as well as in hers. She wasn’t mean at all. In a way, that made me even angrier.”

“I know what you mean. When I fight with her, she always stays calm, never shouting back. I hate that.”

Sherlock nodded. “Me too.”

Again, they shared a smile before he continued.

“Your mum apologized for everything and took all the blame, which she shouldn’t have. It wasn’t her fault alone. If I had been a different man she would have stayed...Despite all her efforts, something inside me forbade me to forgive her. I was stubborn and childish. And I got even more stubborn and more childish when I noticed how much I still felt for her. I still wanted to be with her and that was…I was frightened she’d break my heart again.”

Julie sniffed. Her hand returned into his palm and she looked at him caringly. Sherlock closed his fingers around her small hand.

“I was frightened and too proud and I told myself that I wasn’t falling back in love with her, that it was just for the baby and you. I told myself so many times, the words just came out when John asked.”

He shook his head. He still didn’t want to believe that Molly had heard him say these stupid things.

“Do you love her?”

Sherlock looked at Julie.

Even after everything that happened, it was difficult for him to admit it. There was a black spot in his mind that always reminded him of the pain from all these years ago. He was afraid it would always be there. But he would fight it. Every day, every minute, for the rest of his life.

“Yes.”

His heart skipped a beat. Now that he had said it, the truth of it hit him like a brick. Of course he loved her. He loved her even more now, despite it all; or because of it.

“Have you told her?”

“She doesn’t want to listen.”

“Then we go tell her now.”

Julie had jumped up and was already pulling at his hands to get him to his feet.

“Julie. Julie!”

He pulled her back and steadied her with his hands on her upper arms.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is! She’ll listen when I’m with you. You just tell her what you told me and she’ll forgive you.”

“She won’t believe me. The wound is too fresh. She’ll just think I lied to you, too.”

“But we have to do something. You want her back, don’t you?”

Again, his heartbeat stumbled.

“Yes.”

“Then we have to make a plan.”

Julie jumped back on the couch, steepled her hands under her chin and squeezed her eyes shut.

Sherlock couldn’t love her more.

One eye snapped open.

“You’re not thinking.”

“I already have thought about it.”

Her other eye opened, as well.

“And what did you come up with?”

He exhaled.

“To give her space and time to focus on the baby.”

Julie blew air through her lips and fell back onto the couch. Waiting was the worst strategy in the eyes of a twelve-year-old.

Sherlock leaned back as well. Their hands found each other.

“So you really are moving out?”

“For the time being, yes. I have to make room for the baby, anyway. Even if things work out I can’t have a lab in the nursery.”

Julie nodded.

“I’ll miss you.”

Smiling, Sherlock lifted his hand and placed a kiss on the back of her hand.

“I’ll miss you, too. I will be around as often as your mum lets me. Or you come to Baker Street. It will be like it was in the beginning.”

She nodded again.

“Until you get her back.”

Sherlock frowned.

“Julie, this might not happen. Even if I want to. If your mother doesn’t want to be with me, I have to accept that…we both do.”

He hated to see tears swimming in her eyes again, but he knew it was wrong to give her hope where there might not be any.

“No”, she said after contemplating, “it will happen. I believe it will. And you have to believe, too. You have to fight for her until she says yes.”

He smiled.

“Say it”, Julie insisted, squeezing his hand.

“Say you will fight for mum.”

“I will fight for her.”

The beam she gave him made him smile.

“Crystal”, she giggled and cuddled up to him.

“In my days people said ‘cool’”, he explained as he wrapped an arm around her.

“That makes no sense at all”, Julie only replied and placed her head on her father’s chest. 


	35. Chapter 35

His daughter’s faith in him gave him the strength he was lacking. Now that Julie knew the truth he accompanied her to the hospital and sat outside Molly’s room until she came out again. He never stepped inside the room, but it felt good to be close to her and be there in case she needed him, slim chance as it was.

So it went on for the next eight weeks.

Sherlock moved out of the house and back to Baker Street. Mrs Hudson welcomed him, crying and furious with Molly. After Sherlock filled her in on what happened, she was furious with him and wouldn’t wash his clothes for two weeks.

Julie came up with the idea to paint the nursery. She did her best work on one wall, painting the solar system with an accuracy that impressed Sherlock.

They also assembled Julie’s old crib and hung a self-made mobile with stars and planets over it; again, made by Julie. The one star Sherlock had cut out apparently didn’t meet Julie Hooper’s standards and he had been forbidden to help after that. Still, she had graciously hung it among the rest of the stars.

Apart from not being allowed to see Molly it was good seven weeks. Spending time with Julie and setting up and equipping the nursery helped Sherlock to collect his strength for his next big case: Making Molly forgive him.

 

But first came the birth. That was one hell of 13 hours.

 

Anthea texted him at 2.30 am. He had been up anyway, passing away time at his faithful microscope.

Excitement burst out of him when he read the text and he jumped up, his chair crashing to the floor. Within ten minutes he had woken Julie and Mrs Hudson, informing them about the situation and telling them that he would text John to pick up Julie after school and bring her to the hospital. Of course Julie wanted to come with him, but he quickly told her that it would be just sitting around waiting and promised to text her immediately when her sister had arrived.

A part of him would have liked to have her by his side, but Sherlock didn’t want her to be there if complications arose. It was easier to worry alone. And so he did. All thirteen bloody hours, in front of the delivery room, with only Mycroft and Anthea as his companions. No need to say that they were not interested in making the wait easier for him. His brother still wasn’t talking to him, only the bare minimum. Normally he would have been thrilled to have him off his back, but somehow he wasn’t.

So when Anthea left to use the bathroom, he found himself talking to him.

“I plan to win her back”, Sherlock shot into the silence.

“That would be a nice trick.”

“With the baby and Julie, she will have to talk to me sooner or later.”

Mycroft didn’t reply.

Minutes of silence passed.

“You like her, don’t you?”

His brother straightened in his seat.

“I always did.”

Sherlock snorted.

“No, you didn’t. You disapproved of her like you do with anyone else.”

“I disapproved her decisions, not her entire being.”

Sherlock glared at him.

“She could have done a lot better, brother dear, we both know that.”

“Yes, but she chose _me_.”

She had done that. It was good to remind himself of this.

“Yes. Love makes you do silly things.”

Sherlock gritted his teeth. He had no idea why Mycroft was provoking him, but he knew better than to let him succeed. So he took a deep breath to calm down.

“Thank you.”

Ah, one of these rare moments when he managed to surprise his older, know-it-all brother.

Mycroft looked at him, eyes squinted doubtingly.

“For being there for her”, Sherlock elaborated.

His brother’s mouth twitched and he thought for a second.

“You’re welcome.”

Again, silence. Anthea would be back soon. There was still one thing Sherlock needed to know. But to get this information, he knew he had to make himself vulnerable. Mycroft never passed on information easily.

“I love her, Mycroft.”

Grey eyes only glanced at him.

“I know.”

Sherlock turned in his seat to look him straight in the eyes.

“Is there still hope?”

Mycroft returned his brother’s gaze for a long moment, his lips pursed and his brows furrowed. He was weighing whether or not he should reply.

“Help me, Mycroft”, Sherlock insisted. “If there is a slight chance that we can be a family, you have to tell me.”

“Family”, Mycroft repeated, his eyebrow rising, “would you even know what to do with that?”

Sherlock felt the familiar insecurity creep up his spine. Even after all those years Mycroft still could make him feel like a stupid little boy.

“You already had your chance, Sherlock. And you threw it all away. Not only that, but you crushed the woman who gave you a daughter, and is currently working on giving you another one, under your boot. So I’m asking you in all seriousness: Do you think you deserve another chance?”

Sherlock pressed his lips together.

“Yes.”

Mycroft’s eyes widened.

“I deserve this chance. Because you stole my first.”

The slightest flinch in his big brother’s posture. A rare triumph for the younger Holmes.

“You never believed in me. And you made Molly not believe in me, either. You owe me this chance. And I will prove you wrong. I love her and if she will have me, I will never let her go again.”

“Love is not enough. You will have the responsibility for a whole family. You have to take care of them and you can hardly take care of yourself.”

Sherlock’s hand clenched into a fist. Oh, how he would love to punch him for that.

“I will take care of them”, he insisted.

Mycroft gave him a doubting look-over. The urge to punch him intensified.

“If you fail and worst comes to worst, you will lose them all. In our line of work every attachment is dangerous.”

The tapping sound of heels. Sherlock looked up.   
Anthea, slowly approaching them, typing away on her mobile.  The ring on her right hand shone in the artificial light of the hospital lamps hanging from the ceiling.

Sherlock looked into his brother’s eyes again.

“And yet you married your secretary.”

 

The tapping came to an abrupt stop. Anthea stared at him with sheer panic in her eyes. Mycroft lost control over his facial expression and Sherlock finally learned how his older brother looked like when he was dumbfounded.

Sherlock leaned back, bathing in his triumph.

“Julie told you.”

Mycroft finally found his voice.

“No, she didn’t. I wasn’t aware you told her.”

Anthea looked at Mycroft helplessly.

For once, he didn’t have the answer.

Sherlock felt absolute bliss. He had waited for this moment for years. It was better than he had anticipated.

“Oh, come on. Wedding ring on your right hand. That was your master plan? But you couldn't not wear it, could you? How very sentimental of you.”

Check mate.

It was the longest silence he had ever experienced with his brother.

“Did you tell our parents?”

Sherlock snorted and shook his head.

“Did you really think you could keep this from mummy?”

Mycroft's mouth opened and closed.

“Why do you think she invites Anthea for Christmas every year? It's about time you come, by the way”, he said to Anthea, “with every passing year mummy gets angrier. You have a lot of making up to do”, now he spoke to his brother again.

Anthea sat down next to Mycroft, sliding her hand into his. It was the first moment of intimacy Sherlock witnessed between them. He saw them silently communicating with one long look.

Then Mycroft turned back to him. His face was softer than he'd ever seen him.

“You have to be sure about this, Sherlock. Your family must always come first, even if that means to hurt yourself.”

Sherlock nodded.

“There is still hope”, Mycroft finally answered his earlier question.

Relief washed over him and for the first time in weeks, a full smile adorned Sherlock's face.

“But it won't be easy. You'll have to be patient.”

“I know.”

Anthea smiled and rested her head on Mycroft's shoulder.

“I told you”, she said to her husband and he gave her a gentle smile. It was a side of him Sherlock had never seen before. It was fascinating and unsettling at the same time.

“Well, we can ponder on this later. Now our focus should be on Molly giving birth to your daughter.”

Sherlock agreed and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. His thoughts travelled through the door into the delivery room. In his mind he was there, holding her hand, letting her know that she wasn't alone...

  
~oOo~

 

An hour and twenty-four minutes later, a woman in scrubs stepped out of the delivery room, a small green bundle in her arms. Sherlock jolted out of his seat.

“Mr Holmes, your daughter would like to meet you.”

It was an outer-body experience.

The bundle was carefully placed into his arms. And then he laid eyes on her. The most beautiful, most perfect thing he had ever seen in this world. His heart was bursting with love as he looked at his daughter, her eyes closed, her cute little mouth open. Hurriedly he blinked the tears in his eyes away, not wanting to miss one second of her. She had the pixie nose of her mother and his slender fingers. She began squirming in his arms, her little feet kicking inside the blanket, and her hands were grabbing the air. A little laugh bubbled out of his throat and he held out his index finger for her. A shudder ran through him when she grabbed him tightly, held on to him.

Then her eyelids fluttered open and he looked into those big blue eyes.

So much love filled his heart. He knew it was eternal.

“Hello”, he greeted her and she blinked, her mouth a small 'o'. His voice grabbed her attention and she stilled in his arms, looking at him.

“Welcome, my darling.”

He wiggled his finger and her hold on him tightened. His face hurt from smiling. He couldn't stop looking at her, memorized every little detail; the dark down on her head, the deep blue of her eyes that would never be the same again, the little ears, those adorable ten fingers. He lifted his finger to his lips and kissed her little hand.

“I will always be here, darling. Always. I promise. Every day of your life I will be here.”

He placed another kiss on her forehead. She blinked and began squirming again.

Sherlock laughed, the joy bubbling up inside him, a tear rolling down his face.

“Would you mind?”

He turned around, his brother looking at his niece.

Carefully, Sherlock handed her over. He briefly tore his eyes away from his daughter to watch the Iceman's face melt as he looked at his newborn niece, gently cradling her in his arms as if he had done so with millions of babies. This man had to be perfect in everything.   
Anthea leaned her head against his arm, gently stroking the baby's head. She was her niece, too.   
Ridiculously, those powerful people began cooing at his daughter; it was the strangest thing Sherlock had ever seen...but it made him even happier.

He took out his phone and took a picture of the three of them, sending it to Julie, his parents and the Watsons.

All too soon the little girl was taken away from them to be fed by her mother.

Sherlock wanted nothing more than to go through the door that separated him from the woman he loved, to tell her how grateful he was. Mycroft put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it supportingly.

“Patience, brother dear. You will get your chance.”

Sherlock nodded even though his heart was yearning.

_Patience_.


	36. Chapter 36

Molly stayed in hospital for a week after the birth. She couldn't stop crying. Now that her daughter was born healthy and gorgeous, all she could think about was the fact that she would be alone in this; again. The family she had dared to dream about was not going to happen.

_He_ had made her hope. And all because he wanted to hurt her.

_Well, mission accomplished._

  
  


She still couldn't believe that he would do something like this. Obviously, she didn't know him at all any more. Twelve-years-ago-Sherlock would never have done this. Twelve-years-ago-Sherlock had loved her.

...He had loved her so much.

...And she had broken his heart.

Even now she couldn't stop blaming herself for everything. If she had just stayed...they could have been happy.

_So happy._

_A family._

_A real, whole family._

Julie would have grown up with the most amazing father. And she would have been with the man she had loved from day one.

  
  


Molly was trapped in 'what if'-s. Also, she thought a lot about her childhood and her broken family. Her mother had never been the same after the miscarriage. Molly had to witness how her parents' love died a little bit more with each passing day. To this day Molly was convinced both of them died of a broken heart; her mother over the loss of her son and her father over the loss of his wife.

They had always tried to hide it from her, tried to be happy for her, but Molly had felt the change. It had been so confusing. So utterly confusing. And it had broken her heart, as well.

There was nothing worse than watching two people silently fall out of love.

Molly didn't want this for her daughters. She wanted them to have parents who love and care for each other.

But she couldn't give it to them.

She was a failure.

A bad mother.

  
  


A moan fell from her lips. Her breasts were hurting so bad. She needed to feed her baby.

So Molly got out of bed on this sixth night, carefully wrapping her pink fluffy dressing gown around her worn out body. She had forgotten how uncomfortably empty her belly felt right after giving birth. Her hands were on it while she slowly walked through the empty corridor to the newborn nursery. She had asked the nurse to take her daughter for a few hours so she wouldn’t interrupt the baby’s sleep with her crying.

Her hair was uncombed and sticking up in all directions. She was in desperate need for a haircut. They were almost falling on her shoulders again. Silly as she was she had wanted to grow it out again, remembering how Sherlock had loved to run his fingers through her long...well, it wasn't important any more. A bob was much more practical and she thought it also made her look younger, so she would get one. To hell with it all...

She rounded the corner and passed the glass front of the newborn nursery, only a little light illuminating the few sleeping babies. Molly tried to spot Baby Hooper in the long room, but failed in the darkness. She walked on, wanting to ask one of the nurses to get her daughter. The light was on in the adjoining room where they washed and took care of the babies and parents could spend time with them. Molly had already lifted a hand to slightly tap on the window to get attention when her hand froze in mid-air.

There was a father in there, sitting in the rocking chair, holding his newborn daughter.

Immediately, tears filled her eyes.

_Sherlock._

Of course. At this point, she wasn't even surprised anymore. Life had always had fun playing pranks on her.

Warm orange light illuminated the scene. It softened the edges of the lean man. His facial expression couldn't have been softer, no matter in which light.

_Serene._

That's the word that was passing through Molly's head. Sherlock looked serene...and totally in awe. His long fingers were cradling her head while the other was curled around her small body protectively. Rocking back and forth in the rocking chair he kept looking at his sleeping daughter, his light blue eyes curiously roaming her face, fascinated by what they saw. All of a sudden she squirmed and her little mouth opened for a little yawn before she drifted back to sleep, feeling totally safe in her daddy's arms. Sherlock's lips stretched into a smile. A smile so warm and full of love it filled Molly's heart with a love she no longer wanted to feel.

This is all she had ever wanted. To see him holding his newborn, see this endless love on his face. He had never been able to see Julie like that, to hold her when she was just as small and new in this world. She had taken that from him. What a crime it had been.   
  
  


_Look at him._

_Look at what you've run away from. A father who's so much in love with his daughter he'll do everything for her. He even pretended to be in love with the woman who had stolen this precious moment from him, just to keep her safe._

_How could anyone forgive this kind of crime?_

_You deserved what he did and you know it. Every fake look, every fake touch...every fake kiss. You deserved them all for separating father and daughter just because you were scared._

_What a heartless woman you are, Molly Hooper._

_Look at them._

_You will not destroy this. You will let him love her and Julie and you will do everything it takes to make your daughters happy. You will not make your parents' mistakes. You will learn from them so that all the pain had not been in vain, that it was good for something. Your family broke apart so you can save this family now._

_Find a way._

_Make them happy._

_Your daughters._

_Give them their father._

_And help him to be the best father he can be._

_Don't hurt them because you are hurting. He might not love you, but in the end, it doesn't even matter. All that matters is that he loves his daughters and he wants to be there for them._

_Help him._

_Swallow your pride and your hurt feelings and make this work!_

  
  


Minutes passed in which Molly just watched them. It was so beautiful she forgot her own heartbreak. She even forgot her aching breasts. She wanted to memorize every detail of this peaceful moment and lock it away in the part of her heart that was still whole and full of love. Despite her weak knees she would have stayed there forever, if not at one point, Sherlock finally sensed her presence.

A jolt rushed through her when his eyes found hers.

Time stopped. Her heartbeat pummelled against her chest.

The beauty of his love-filled eyes stunned her.

Then he made an attempt to get out of the chair and reality collapsed over her: That love wasn't meant for her.

Blinking her tears away she turned around and hurried away.

He didn't follow her.

Still Molly walked as fast as she could, escaped into her room and into her bed where she hid under the blanket, crying one last time over what he had done to her.

The next day she asked to be discharged. It was time to move on, to stop being the victim and take life into her own hands again.

She wanted to get home with her new baby. She wanted to go back to Julie.

Her daughters needed her and she would always be strong for them.

Always...


	37. Chapter 37

Patience, his brother had told him. And for once, Sherlock listened. He had resisted the urge to follow Molly this one night at the newborn nursery, although it had almost killed him. She had looked so forlorn, cheeks pale and wet with tears, puffy eyes and tousled hair. He had wanted to run after her and take her in his arms, thanking her for Caroline (after the German astronomer Caroline Herschel, as Julie had suggested) as well as begging her forgiveness.

But something told him that it was too soon.

So he waited.

And waited.

Molly settled in with her second daughter, Mary always by her side, finally having a chance to pay her back, for Molly had done the same when Jamie had been born.

Julie spent most of her time with her baby sister, eager to learn how babies worked and what it entailed to be a mother.

Without many words Molly and Sherlock found a schedule where he could be with his children...and she didn't have to see him. Of course she didn't phrase it like this, but when she suggested for him to come when she took a nap, he knew that it was what it meant. And it stung. Yet, he kept his mouth shut. As long as he could be with Caroline, he was happy. He didn't mind that she mostly slept in his arms, babies did that a lot. He would have been there when she was screaming, as well, but Molly's avoiding eyes and stiff posture told him that she wasn't comfortable with this.

_Patience_ , he remembered.

Sherlock had to use the despised word in the conversation with his parents, who naturally wanted to see the baby. It was the most open and honest conversation he had had with his parents, telling them the entire story for the first time, leaving no uncomfortable detail out. His mother cried and pulled him into a long, warm embrace. So did his father. Sherlock was surprised. He had expected judgement, but received understanding. They didn't even try to give him good advice, which was beyond odd. Mummy loved to give advice whether it was wanted or not. She only looked at him with tears swimming in her eyes and patted his cheek, telling him to ' _go get your girl...and don't you dare let her go again_ '.

Sherlock was stunned into silence. But it gave him strength to have his parents on his side, more than he had thought possible. So he remained patient and did everything he could to show Molly rather than tell her what he felt.

He loved the days at Regent's Park, the buzzing of his family and friends in the house, little Caroline in his arms, joking with Julie and catching glimpses of Molly. He pretended not to notice her when she stood by the ajar door and watched him sitting in the rocking chair he had smuggled into the house one night, surprising her. He had anticipated her to reject it, but she hadn't said a word. It became his favourite place in the entire house. Just sitting in it, holding Caroline and listening to the life outside the nursery made him happy.

Something deep inside him had calmed down. He felt at peace in the rocking chair, holding his daughter in his arms.

  
  


As beautiful as the days were, as difficult were the nights.

Sleep often eluded him.

His mind was restless.

Not even experiments or crap telly could hold his interest for long.

It was during one of those restless nights, standing and looking around the living room, searching for something, anything he could do, when he finally realized what was wrong:

This wasn't his home any more.

Baker Street had been such a big part in his life for so long he had failed to notice that this wasn't where he wanted to be.

His refuge, his safe haven where his buzzing mind could come to rest, was not this flat any more.

It was the cosy little house at Regent's Park, where his family lived.

And he wanted to be a part of it.

He wanted to experience what it was like to be...ordinary, if that was the correct term.

He wanted to be a father.

...And a husband.

Sherlock almost snorted.

How could he have not seen it? It was so obvious that this was the end of his story.

He had started as a brilliant but antisocial boy, had become a high-functioning sociopath and a consulting detective who had solved unsolvable cases. He had fallen in love with a woman who was remarkably strong beneath the surface of the ordinary. She had woken this wish for more in him and it had grown and grown. His heart had been broken, but he had not relapsed into a state of coldness and loneliness. Due to this wish for more there had been people in his life that prevented this from happening. Friends, the kind of family you choose yourself. He had still been a consulting detective, but he had also been a best friend and a god-father. He had watched his god-daughter grow and he had been a part of it. And then, from one day to another, he had been a father; something he had never thought he would want to be. But as soon as he had looked into Julie's eyes, he had been one. And he loved it. Every day, every minute of being a father was an adventure. The biggest adventure of his life, so much more fascinating than any case.   
  
But he still wanted more.

Now he wanted it all.

He wanted a wife.

...He wanted her.

Every day.

Every minute.

Every second.

His Molly.

_Molly mine._


	38. Chapter 38

Sherlock planned on wooing her. After some internet research he was positive he could do it. He meant to declare his courtship one afternoon when Molly had just fed Caroline and was putting her into the crib.

“I'm leaving”, he announced his presence.

Molly didn't look up.

“All right.”

“But before I go”, he said and closed the door. The sound made Molly turn around, “I have to tell you something.”

“I don't want-”

“But you will.”

Her eyes widened. He hadn't been this stern with her in months.

Their eyes locked. She hadn’t looked at him in so long. Sherlock’s heart skipped a beat.

“I lied, Molly.”

Molly looked away, her hands clenching into her wide black sweatpants.

“To John”, Sherlock specified, “I lied to John. About my feelings.”

“I don't want to hear this”, Molly whispered, but didn't move, which might had something to do with the fact that Sherlock was blocking the only way out.

“I know you don't. But you need to.”

She crossed her arms defensively.

“Look at me, Molly.”

She hesitated, but in the end she turned her head and faced him, her eyes cold and her brows furrowed. All of her body language told him to leave her alone. But he didn't care.

He would fight for her.

Yet his heart was beating fast. He had prepared words, but they seemed to fly out of his brain with every passing second.

“I love you.”

Her eyelids fluttered and she stopped breathing for a second.

“I have always loved you. I have never stopped loving you. Never.”

He didn't need to specify. He was done with the past.

“You, Molly Hooper, are the love of my life.”

She pressed her lips together. The blush crept up her cheeks, anyway; as well as the tears into her eyes.

“Yes, I took my sweet time to understand it”, he said it the way she would phrase it, “and I know I have made some bad mistakes. I've been cruel to you when I should have been understanding and I have lied when I should have been honest. I've always been a mess, Molly. Unfortunately, I can't say that this has changed much. But I'm trying. Since Julie is in my life I'm trying to be better. I want to be the best father our daughters can have.”

A sob fell from her lips and she gasped for air, quickly wiping the tears away.

“And I want to be the best man you could wish for.”

Now she looked away again, squeezing her eyes shut. Sherlock was afraid he was losing her.

“I will fight for you, Molly. I may not deserve you, but I will fight for you. I want you more than anything. I am egoistic that way. I want us to be a family...I want to come home to you.”

Molly blew air out of her lungs, more tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Starting tomorrow, I will court you, Molly Hooper.”

Her eyes darted to his, a surprised expression on her face.

“Not only will I make you forgive me, but I will make you fall back in love with me. And then we will be a family and we'll be disgustingly happy for the rest of our lives.”

Her lips were parted. She looked...dumbfounded, to say the least.

He exhaled, trying to slow down his heartbeat.

“Well...that's basically it. Just wanted to let you know. See you tomorrow then. I suggest that you buy some vases. According to Wikipedia courting involves a lot of flowers. I can also buy them, if you prefer, although I don't know much about vases. Does it matter what they look like? I'll do some research, can't be so hard to-”

“Shut up.”

Sherlock's eyes widened. Now it was his turn to be surprised.

Molly wiped away the tears and looked at him through puffy eyes.

“Why did you lie to John? Why did you say these horrible things?”

Sherlock's heart clenched and he looked at the spot in front of her feet.

“Because I was afraid to appear...weak. I was still coming to terms with the fact that I still loved you even after I tried to convince myself for years that I wasn't.”

“Do you still think so?”

“No.”

“But you think love is a weakness?”

He looked at her. The feeling it caused to look at her might be many things...but not weakness.

“Not _our_ love.”

They held their gazes for a long time.

“You still don't know anything about me, Sherlock Holmes.”

His fast beating heart was nailed down to his rib cage.

“I don't want to be courted. Especially not by you. You're the father of my children. The mere thought is ridiculous.”

No, this wasn't happening, Sherlock thought desperately. She still loved him! She had to!

“All I ever wanted was for you to forgive me, that you still love me and to know why you said those things.”

He opened his mouth to protest, to say something that would make her forgive him and make her love him again.

“But I-”

That's when it hit him: She never said she didn't.

He blinked and frowned, trying to understand what was happening.

“I did tell you I love you.”

“Yes.”

Molly's eyes lit up and her hands folded on her back.

“...And I explained why I lied.”

“Yes.”

He blinked.

The mischievous smirk on her face was confusing.

His mind was racing.

_1\. Tell her I love her._

_2\. Tell her why I lied..._

“...I...forgive you?”

A smile as bright as the day, then she rushed forward. All he could do was catch her and not fall over when she smashed her lips on his.

There still was a big confusion in his head, but he managed to wrap his arms around her and kiss her back. What the hell was happening?

It couldn't be so simple, could it?

  


When she broke the kiss, her legs tightly wrapped around him and her hands cradling his face, he opened his eyes.

Sherlock looked like his second daughter when his mouth formed a silent 'o'.

Apparently, it was that simple.

Molly smiled at him, her eyes so warm and full of love it stole his breath away.

He was stunned. He couldn't believe that he really had her back. After all the nights he had spent scheming!

“...But I've planned so many things for you”, he stammered helplessly.

She chuckled.

“If you insist you can still do them, but it's not necessary.”

“So you simply...forgive me?”

“Not simply. You said some very lovely things and you've been trying really hard these past months.”

“I've been told to be patient.”

Molly giggled and stroke his face. Sherlock pulled her closer until she was flush against him.

How he had missed her warmth and scent.

His eyes fluttered closed when she leaned in and bestowed another wonderful kiss upon him.

Her kisses had this supernatural power to weaken his knees. So was it this time and he swayed, falling back against the door.

“Sherlock...”

“Molly mine...”

She smiled and rested her forehead against his.

“Let's make a new start”, she whispered, “let's not hang on to our failures of the past and focus on our future instead.”

“Yes”, he agreed and placed a hand in her neck to pull her down for a long, tender kiss.

“We will be a family”, he whispered against her lips and she nodded eagerly, biting back tears.

“And no more crying. From now on I will only make you happy, Molly mine.”

She sobbed and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I thought I'd never hear you calling me this again. I love you, Sherlock. I love you so much, more than I can ever say...”

He chuckled and, after another, soothing kiss on her neck, he put her back on her feet. She was still enfolded in his arms, his hands gently rubbing her back while his head rested against hers.

“Our story is far from traditional, is it?”

She giggled, her hands running through his hair.

_Hmm, so good._

“It definitely isn't.”

“Maybe the ending can be?”

Molly looked up at him, confused as he gently pushed her away. Her eyes followed his hands as it wandered into his pocket.

When something sparkled between his fingers as he pulled them out and he knelt down in front of her, her eyes got huge.

“Originally this was planned a month from now, on the rooftop of Barts, after I showered you with my affection.”

“Oh my God.”

“Not quite.”

“Oh my God, Sherlock.”

“Closer.”

He grinned up at her and Molly clasped a hand over her gaping mouth. Sherlock took the free hand in his.

“Molly Hooper, love of my life, mother of my two beautiful daughters, will you give me the honour of your hand in marriage?”

Molly sniffed and nodded.

His heart did a leap and with a big fat grin on his face he slipped the diamond ring on her finger.

Both of them looked at it.

Then Molly sniffed again.

“You said you weren't going to make me cry again”, she sobbed.

“Last time, I promise.”

Before he could stand up she sat on his knee and put her arms around his neck. With closed eyes she rested her forehead against him.

“I love you, Sherlock Holmes.”

“Soon to be Hooper.”

Her head snapped back.

“What?”

“Of course.”

“But-”

“You and our daughters all bear the name 'Hooper'. It's far more practical if I just change mine.”

“But I don't mind-”

“But I do. I want to do this, Molly. For us. Please.”

She looked at him, then she smiled.

“Mycroft will hit the roof.”

“He has already prepared the documents. To be honest, he pointed it out.”

Again, Molly's eyes were big as saucers.

“What about your parents?”

“They don't give a damn as long as they can see their grandchildren. That was a quote.”

Molly shook her head, looking at him, then at the ring on her finger and lastly to the crib where her second child was sleeping.

“Is this really happening?” she whispered. “After all I’ve done wrong...?”

Sherlock pulled her close, nuzzling her neck.

“We, Molly mine. We’ve done it wrong. Now we’ll make it right.”

They held each other for a very long time, enjoying their reunion, grasping that they had indeed managed to overcome all the obstacles they had thrown into their own way.

  


“Can we go down and tell Julie and the others?”

Sherlock smiled up at his bride and placed a lingering kiss on her lips before he nodded.

Molly jumped up and dragged him along by his hand.

To see her so happy was more than he had dared to dream of.

Finally, he had done something right.

He was father of two daughters.

And now he would be husband.

To the most fascinating woman he had ever met.

 

Life was good.

  
He was home.

 

 

  


THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there it is. This is the most grown-up story I have written so far and I have to say, I'm very proud of it. All the blood, sweat and tears...I have put my heart into this story and I love it a lot.   
> I really hope that you loved reading this, that you fell in love with Julie as much as I did, that you felt your heart cringe at the sadness and wept when I did. I hope that you never gave up on these two, no matter what pain I threw in their way. And I hope that you will walk away from this story with love in your heart, a smile on your face and with a promise to stop by and read this once again some time. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and hopefully leaving Kudos or a comment. Knowing that someone likes this story as much as I do would make my day. 
> 
> All the best  
> Kendra - A hopeful Sherlolly-shipper


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